


Hear No Evil

by IsYourH3artTaken



Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: Crushes, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, High School, Platonic Relationships, Private School, Supernatural Elements, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Visions, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsYourH3artTaken/pseuds/IsYourH3artTaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shouldn't have felt this way around him. Her best friend's boyfriend, of all people. But she couldn't help it. He kept coming around, even when she tried to avoid him. Senior year at Spenser definitely wasn't going the way she planned. And it was all because of the freakin' Sons of Ipswich. Pogue/OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is A Dark Ride

**T** he smell of wet sand and Mike's Hard Lemonade ripples through my nose. I brush a lock of hair away from my eyes and tilt my face up to see the stars. Their glow is diluted, blurry from the post lights stationed all around the party site. Of all places to hold a bonfire, it has to be the dirtiest place in Massachusetts. I'm not a party girl - none whatsoever. We have bad history together. Sure, alcohol makes things fun at first, but then drunk words turn into sober thoughts and somebody ends up hearing something they shouldn't have.

Ever since the infamous Halloween rave of 2003, I always steer clear of suspicious alcohol mixes and random guys offering you a plastic red cup of God knows what's been slipped in there. I learned that the hard way when a member of the football team popped a sedative in my rum and coke, but thankfully my other friend Rachel caught the glaze in my eyes and pulled me to safety before I blacked out in a stranger's arms. Not every person is that lucky.

People just can't be trusted. I guess that's why I prefer sticking to a smaller crowd. Lesser chances of getting hurt.

And tonight is my first gathering without my boyfriend Cole.

Well...ex-boyfriend.

"Want another beer?" Kate asks me, raising her voice over the DJ's scatting. The glimmer from the flames makes her skin look as smooth as marble. I shake my head, holding a quarter full bottle in my left hand. The bitter liquid sloshes uneasily in my stomach and I keep my lips tightly sealed so I don't upchuck all over my vans. Another swig and I'd end up spending the night under a toilet lid.

"Nah, I'm good," I answer and carefully tip my bottle when she's not looking and empty the remaining contents onto the soil. When the last drop splashes on a little pebble, I drop the bottle and kick it into a bundle of burned out sticks, hoping nobody heard the clink, but everyone continues to dance, much to my relief.

It's so weird...being alone. I don't regret me and Cole's breakup, not at all. He isn't the person I thought he was. But it left me with an almost numbing aftereffect. Being with a guy for so long sort inhibits how you act alone in a large mass of people. I feel unarmed, vulnerable. Moreso than I was when we were still together. He blamed me a lot when things just didn't go his way and our fights lasted for days, until one of us mucked the maturity to contact the other and apologize. Then things went back to being okay.

For a while.

After some months, 'okay' just wasn't good enough for me. I was tired of feeling like my effort to make things better wasn't enough. He seemed satisfied with just spending time with me - there's was always something he complained about, something to nitpick.

So I did what every girl should do. I dumped his ass.

"There you are!" A petite, blonde girl skips up to us. I've never seen her before, but she seems to know Kate. "I've been looking everywhere for you! You didn't tell me this place was such a mosh."

Kate laughs, tossing a lock of dark hair over her shoulder. "I thought you've been to parties before."

"Yeah, well, nothing like this," the girl explains and her eyes fall to me. She sticks out her hand politely. "Hi, I'm Sarah."

As I shake her hand, Kate fumbles to introduce me. "Oh, sorry! I forgot you two haven't met. Sarah, this is my friend Cora. We've known each other since we were nine."

I smile and let go of Sarah's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," she says nicely. "So, give me the scoop. Who's here?"

Kate pulls Sarah close. "Okay, the first thing you have to know is that Aaron Abbott is a prick. Treats girls like dirt," she tells her, pointing at the shaggy haired boy standing several feet away. He has the word 'douchebag' stamped all over him. Someone needs to remind him that his 90's boy band hair cut has gotta go - there's only one person that can pull of the jerry curl and unfortunately, Aaron's name is not Justin.

"Yeah, once he cut a hole in the girl's showers and videotaped it, then posted it online," l add solemnly. "It's a cruel world."

Sarah's mouth drops open. "No way," she deadpans.

I nod. "It's true. That's why the dropout percentage was so high last year."

"That's sick," Sarah shakes her head and scans the crowd. "Who's that?" Kate and I turn to where's she's looking, spotting a tall, slim boy ambling through the crowd by himself. He's attractive. Too attractive not to have a date. There's always something off about that.

"New guy," Kate flutters. She smiles from ear to ear. I know that look all too well. She's probably picturing what he looks like naked. Tsk tsk. Shameful.

"Ooh, he's looking over here," Sarah chimes in. They look like slobbering rottweilers outside of a butcher's meat shop. Can they make it anymore obvious? I sigh and tuck back a strand of fly away hair. Putting up with one boy crazy friend is enough. How can I handle two?

"Don't know much about him," Kate murmurs. "But I intend to find out."

I playfully elbow her in the ribs. "Uh, hello. You have a boyfriend."

She jerks back slightly and giggles. "Who isn't here yet," she retorts. And who I still haven't met, I think. She claims to have met him during summer break, but I have yet to see Mr. Wonderful in the flesh. Why is he such a secret?

Sarah laughs at us, still watching the mystery boy as he glides through the horde. "He's cute," she observes. Kate and I nod in agreement. Someone bumps into my shoulder, almost knocking me to the ground, but I catch myself in time and whirl around to tell whatever magnificently graceful person to watch where they're going, but Kate's awe struck voice catches my attention and reels me back in.

"They're here," she breathes, staring into the distance. I try to distinguish what they see through the fog, but it's thick.

"Who are they?" Sarah inquires. She sounds just as enthralled. Great. I guess I know who's driving us home tonight. Hormonal women should not operate machinery.

"The Sons of Ipswich."

The name is foreign to me and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, like cough syrup. Why didn't I hear of these boys before? Gossip travels fast down the grapevine at Spenser. Then again, I never lend much ear to it anyways. I never even stay at the dorms on the weekends. A person can only take so much terms papers and bad lunch meat. I shake my head to clear my muddled thoughts and squint slightly when four shapes saunter closer. They're young, maybe a year or two older than us and dress mostly in black. A very Bram Stoker feel.

Most of them have short hair, dark in color, except for one blonde with a peculiar glint in his eyes. His nails are painted black that almost look deep purple by the firelight. Another has near shoulder length hair, dark brown, smooth looking and supports a leather jacket. He's handsome, features more chiseled and mature than the other three and broad in the shoulders. When his eyes lock with mine, I feel my face flush with blood, like I'm locked in a sauna. My hands curl into loose fists, sweat forming at the creases of my palms. _Oh, come on, get it together_ , I chastise myself. _He's not the only cute boy you've seen._ But it sure feels like it is. Must some kind of occult mind trick.

"Hey, Kate," the second tallest guy greets.

"Caleb," Kate greets, breaking my trance. I blink once and glance at the boy she's addressing. He's more baby faced the rest, but still cute. Kate runs up to the one in leather and wraps her arms around him. So this must be the boyfriend I've heard so much about. "Hi!" She says and kisses him chastely. "You're late."

"I had a thing with the family," the boyfriend answers. His voice is deeper than I expect. "Who's this?" He asks, turning to me. He glances at Sarah for a second before flicking his gaze back to me. His expression is unreadable.

"My friend Cora. And this is my new roommate Sarah," Kate introduces us and points out to each boy. "This is Pogue Parry, Tyler Simms, Reid-"

"Garwin," the blonde pipes in. "Reid Garwin." He holds out his hand for me to shake and I do. "Good evening," he says politely. I raise my eyebrows and share a look with Sarah as she also shakes his steady hand. Did we just drop into the eighteenth century? No one has this amount of decorum. Unless you took ballroom classes when you were younger.

As he blathers on about his grandma, my gaze shifts over to each young man, pausing on Kate's boyfriend, Pogue.

Pogue.

Huh. What a weird name. It must be an alias. Or his parents has a really bizarre preference for personal identities. He's so much cuter than I first thought, now I see him in proper lighting. And tall. Very tall. He dwarfs Kate and she's a whole three inches taller than me. And his arms...they look huge, even from under the bulk of his jacket.

 _Oh, jeez, stop,_ I tell myself. _This is your friend's man. Have some mental manners. Respect the girl code._

I guess I must be staring longer than I thought because after a minute or two, his sights flit down to me. His eyes are brooding, but they melt a few degrees and the corners of his full lips twist up into a smirk. Our eyes weld together for a moment, and something that feels like familiarity grows in my chest, but I know it must be faux. I just met this guy. I definitely haven't seen him before. Have I...? My stomach flips by the fervor in his gaze and I immediately break contact, just in time to see a curly haired girl bounce toward our group. Kira. She bats her fake eyelashes at the guy Sarah was eye sexing.

"Hey, Caleb," she purrs, attempting to sound seductive, but it just comes out as desperate.

Caleb's tone is formal, like she's his accountant. "Kira."

"How was your summer?" She prods.

Caleb appears apprehensive. "Um-" he begins, but Kira pivots toward Sarah before he can finish, eyes narrowed territorially. It always confuses me why us girls are so inherently catty, sometimes for no logical reason. I guess it's just in our makeup, though some are more akin to it than others.

"I'm Kira," the red head says.

"Sarah."

"Oh, right. From the Boston public," Kira spits out, as if attending a lesser prestige school is the equivalent to committing mass slaughter. "Tell me, how does one go about getting into Spenser from a public?"

I bite the inside of my cheek, but my tongue is too strong to ward off. It takes free reign. "Shouldn't you be giving the Freshman a handy behind the ice bins or something?" I snap. Somebody stifles a chuckle and I realize it's Pogue.

Kira scowls at me. "I don't think I was talking to you."

Caleb sighs. "Why don't you give it a rest, Kira?"

Aaron steps in, like he's actually intimidating. His threats sound like a cat trying to choke itself to death more than anything else. "Why don't _you_ give it a rest?"

I roll my eyes, wishing I still had that beer bottle in my hand. They make pretty decent last minute defense weapons, in case things got ugly real quick. "Nice comeback," I say, sliding my hands in the pockets of my jacket. The chilly air numbs my fingertips.

"I don't want any trouble, Aaron," Caleb states earnestly.

"I'm sure you don't," the curly haired douche insinuates. They stare each other down for a good full minute and I swear one of them is about to start throwing punches and I back up one pace so I don't get caught in the whirlwind of testosterone. But another boy pipes in right when I think it's about to explode.

"You posers make me want to puke," a meathead minion insults.

Reid almost jumps him. He has sort of a rabid look in his eyes. He must be the trouble maker of the pack, the kind that sprays graffit on brick walls and tapes 'kick me' signs to people's backs. "Is that right, boy?" He hisses. For a second, I really think he's going to succeed in clobbering him. Though, Caleb calmly restrains him.

"I think you owe Kira an apology," Aaron has the guile to say.

I bark out a laugh. "Seriously? Raggedy Ann came up to _us._ We don't owe her anything."

Caleb nods in agreement. "Actually, I think Kira owes Sarah the apology."

Aaron goes silent, smiling without humor, but it disappears just as quickly as it came. He shoves Caleb's chest, making the taller boy stumble. A hand flies up to my mouth, lips parting beneath my lint flecked fingers and I scamper backwards in case the whole thing turns into a WWE crackdown. The last I witnessed a fight, I got blood on the hem of my favorite jeans that not even my mom could get out with her homemade cleaning remedy. I expect bodily fluid to spill again tonight. But it doesn't.

Another guy hops in between them, forcing temporary peace. It's the dude Sarah and Kate were creeping on earlier. He laughs it off like the entire ordeal is an acted scene from an old sitcom. "Sorry, but you were being kind of bitchy," he tells Kira, more seriously.

I cackle and catch her attention, her eyes narrowing into small cat-like slits. Oh, she looks pissed. It just makes me smile wider. She got what she deserves. Oh, the sweet feel of justice.

Suddenly, Aaron's friend doubles over and hurls all over him. I let out a semi shriek and scramble away in haste to protect my new clean shoes. The stench of Bud Lite and chilli fries wafers through my nostrils and I bring my jacket sleeve up to cover my sensitive senses, stomach bubbling from seeing the sun yellow bile dripping down Aaron's coat. Normally, I'd be laughing myself into hysteria, but this is just revolting. I'll never look at mustard the same way again. I might even fast for the next two days. That or live off a diet consisting of smoothies for the next week or so.

The DJ takes a hold of the speaker. "Guys, Dylan just called. He said he saw three cop cars headed this way on Old Dell Road."

Everyone knows that that means. We have ten minutes to get the hell out of dodge. In a flurry, Kate grabs my arm and leads me with her through the crowd of bumbling youths. I trip and stumble all the way to the woodland border, but lose Kate when a group of Jocks ram into my back, making me lose contact with her. She calls for me and I see her hand reach out to find me again, but she ends getting swallowed by the stampede and we're separated. I yell her name, but she doesn't answer. She probably can't even hear me. Great. I'm on my own now. I push past the throng of drunken schoolmates and try to spot my car in the clouded atmosphere, but it's difficult to pinpoint. Teens shout around me for their friends and race to safety.

I jog toward the areas where moonlight shines through the thick branches and leaves, skimming the area for a single flash of my grey Toyota. I know I parked it right along here...

Police sirens shoot off behind me and I whip my head around to check if any patrols are riding our tails, but thankfully there's none. The path to my car is clear and threat free. But the woods are so shrouded by blackness, I can hardly see where I put each footstep until the bottom of my shoes actually hit solid ground, or a protruding object that makes me stumble. And that's exactly what happens. My shoelace snags on the sharp end of a smashed beer bottle and sends me tumbling to the ground. My head bangs against something hard and dull and sends my world temporary inanimate. It feels like the entirety of earth is dancing to dubstep music. Dipping and swaying.

My fingers curl around slick leaves and I feel warm liquid trickle down my temple. It drips past my lips and a droplet coats my tongue. It's blood. My head is cut and I can't see straight.

"Ow," I mutter and try to sit up, but it makes my forehead throb with pain. I hear people stampede around me, rushing to get into their cars before the cops find out where we've fled to. "Kate?" I croak for my friend, hoping she's close by, but my voice goes unheard.

Then someone else acknowledges me.

"Cora?"

I don't realize who it is until heavy footfalls stomp all the way to me and a callused hand touches my arm.

I look up at the handsome face. It's Kate's boyfriend, but she is nowhere in sight. She must have left already with Sarah.

"Pogue?" I say, the words slurred.

"Yeah, it's me," his bass voice rumbles. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know," I murmur. "I tripped and...well," I hold out a hand that's dabbled with blood.

"Shit," he curses lowly, sounding at a loss. I glance up at him again and he's staring me like he's trying to figure out what to do. I don't really need much assistance. If he'd only help me to my feet, I could get to my car on time. Maybe by then, my eyesight will clear and I can drive without smashing into a tree.

"Pogue!" Another male voice yips from a big, dark car. It sounds like Reid. "Let's go!"

I wipe the blood spatter from my the back of my head and struggle to stand up. "Just go. I'll be- hey!" My sentence gets cut off when I feel myself being swung into strong, sturdy arms. Soft leather brushes against my cheek. "What are you doing?" I demand, heartbeat blipping in surprise, but it begins to calm when I feel his stride carry me to safety. Maybe he's taking me back to my car.

But I see the thick outline of his friend's vehicle.

Maybe not.

"I told you I'll be fine," I protest.

"How do expect to drive when you can barely walk?" He shoots back.

"Uh..." is all I manage to say.

Pogue smirks. "There we go."

"Just leave her, man," a male voice says, but I can't tell who it is. My head comes to rest against Pogue's chest. It eases the thumping in my skull.

"She's bleeding," he says defensively.

"And that's our problem?"

"Shut up and open the door," he snaps at someone. I hear the back door click open and feel myself lower down on cold cushions. Somebody else hops in with me and the door closes shut again.

"Cora," A deep voice says guardedly. It's Caleb. "Can you hear me?"

"Sort of," I mutter and creak one eye open. Everything is clouded, but the shapes I can make out are clearer than before. "Where am I?"

"You're okay. We're gonna take you home," Caleb says simply. I don't press on the fact that he avoided my question. My head hurts too much to think. I see him and Pogue sitting on either side of me in the backseats, concern twinging their brows. Being sandwiched between them makes me fidget nervously. This is any teenaged girl's dream, yet I feel like a fish out of water.

"I would've been fine driving myself home," I tell them.

"As gentlemen, we can't let a girl drive under the influence," Reid says and starts the car. His stupid grin makes me want to sock him in the jaw. It's a good thing he's cute.

I use the sleeve of my jacket to mop the blood from my face. "I'm not even drunk."

Tyler sits at the passenger side, but his gaze is also trained on my face. "Jesus. What happened to your head?" He asks curiously, noticing the mess caked in my hair. There still must be some blood painting my face and hair. I probably look like I just crawled out of a swamp.

"I'm not a very graceful person," I answer, adjusting my cramped position.

"You don't get car sick, do you?" Reid inquires, taking the steering wheel. He glances at me through the rear view mirror.

I give him a weird look. "No...why?"

He just smirks and switches the gear shift. "Buckle up, sweetheart." I part my lips to answer, but he floors the gas pedal, sending us flying through the woods, narrowly missing branches scraping against the windows. I try to hold on to the edge of the seats, but I'm thrashing around like a wet noodle. My shoulder repeatedly smacks into Pogue's chest.

We're driving so fast, I can't tell what direction we're going or if we're still in the woods or not. Everything flits by in a swirl of pine green and coal black. Police sirens wail in the distance. They're catching on to our trail. At this point, we'll either drive ourselves off a cliff or get thrown into the slammer. Great. What did I get myself into? I should have just crawled home. That would have been less danger inducing.

Blue and cherry lights reflect off the windshield and I glance behind us to see a lone cop car chasing us down. The boys laugh with excitement. Aren't they the least bit scared we'll get into an accident? I know I am.

Reid accepts the challenge to outspeed them. "No sweat!" He steps harder on the pedal and takes a right hand turn, spinning us west.

But the cops are relentless. With each mile we put between us, they cover it just as quickly.

"We gotta pull over," Caleb laments.

"Oh, you wanna stop? That'll impress Harvard," Reid teases.

After a moment of thought, Caleb gives in. "All right, what the hell? Let's lose them. Hey, cut across Marblehead. We might as well have some fun."

I run both hands through my hair, clutching chunks in disbelief. "You guys are crazy." And I'm definitively going to die tonight. Any second, we'll be forced to hit the breaks and I'll go soaring through the windshield and break my neck. Or the car can overturn and we'd all be crushed. The possibilities are endless. At least my parents have the funds to afford a burial plot.

Tyler grins at me. "It's the only way we stay sane." God, if this makes them normal, then what am I?

"Lose them!" Pogue says when the sirens blare closer. Reid makes another sharp turn, and zips through the foliage. It looks like we're heading out of forest borders. Maybe I'll actually make it out of here alive.

Maybe.

"Step on it. Go!" Tyler exclaims.

"All right, guys, you ready?" Reid says.

"Come on, Caleb. It's gonna take all of us," Pogue adds solemnly.

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" I chime in, confused. What's on the other side of the dense fog? And why won't they tell me?

Tyler tries to console me. "We're just taking a detour." By the look on his face, he knows I don't buy it. I wasn't born yesterday - I know when I'm being lied to. And from the way we're zooming across a rocky surface, through milky fog, says that these guys don't exactly have the best judgement plans.

"You might wanna cover your eyes," Pogue advises me.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just do it," he replies curtly.

I glance at Caleb and he nods at, sincerity in his eyes. It's hard to distrust a person that gives off such genuine waves. So I turn back to the windshield and shut my eyes, lowering my head a little so locks of my hair fall over my shoulder like a sheer curtain. I feel the car accelerate and suddenly, it pitches forward, gliding through air as if the ground disappeared from under the wheels. I gasp, a tingling sensation surging through my whole body, but keep my eyes closed. Whatever is happening, I don't want to see it.

Arms envelope around me when the car shakes violently, holding me still and tight against a solid chest. I feel leather and I know it's Pogue. The prickling of my skin intensifies, as if some type of shield is being summoned around me. The car goes stagnant for a second then slams back into solid ground, tires spinning out of control as we swerve out of the police's radar. I shrug out of Pogue's grasp and open my eyes when the car drives back into the woods and whip my head back to see what's behind us. The cop's flashlights shine faintly at the rear windshield as we hightail out of there proximity and their car doors slam in a desperate attempt to follow, but by the time they get their car started, we're already long gone.

I turn back to the front seats slowly, like I just woken from a year's coma and blink away the dryness in my eye. Something happened back there...and I don't know what it exactly was, but it was _something_ that normal people can't do. The way they car levitated and...seemingly moved behind the police vehicles so we could get away. I'm sure I didn't imagine it. It was real. I still feel the tremor of the engine rising, sending shock waves through my body. Slithery, like meal worms crawling inside of your cranium.

I clap a hand over my mouth and try to breathe evenly through the gap in my fingers.

"I think she's gonna puke," Reid chuckles from the driver's side. He steadies the car to a normal mileage once we hit the road.

"Don't aim for the seats, okay?" Tyler requests. "The interior costs over two grand."

"You should get your money back," Pogue mocks.

Caleb is the only one who cares about what I witnessed, or rather, what I felt. "You okay?" He asks seriously.

I nod, removing my hand from my mouth. My palms are warm and clammy so I wipe them on my jeans. "Yeah...I-I think so," I deadpan.

Caleb looks into my eyes intensely. "I need you to promise that you won't say anything about what just happened."

"I'll promise not to say anything about what just happened if you can tell me what the hell just happened," I answer back hotly.

The four boys share a look. "It's kind of complicated," Caleb says.

"Well, how about you start with how the car just lifted like that? Or that weird feeling I got when Pogue touched me?" I demand. They all fall silent. "Oh, do you need a minute to come up with a good excuse?" I add.

Caleb sighs. "Part of the reason why I'm asking is because if people find out about us, we'll be killed. So, it's better if you just keep what you know to yourself."

"But that's the thing. I don't know anything. My eyes were closed," I clarify, looking at each boy. "What did you guys do?" Another moment of silence, and for a second, I think that they'll refuse to tell me at all.

But then their heads bow a little.

And their eyes change.

To a cold, reflectional black.

I gasp, shrinking back against the seat as the car suddenly raises in mid-air. Pogue's arm slinks around my waist against, holding me to him a protective grip as the numbing sensation overtakes my body again. It feels like a barrier is being warped around me, preventing harm. Then I see a flash of white and grey and the car is suddenly on highway 84, closer to suburban territory. When I study the boys, they're laughing and blink once to deactivate the ebony sheathing of their eyes, temporarily forgetting my presence. My mind spins into defunct. I can scarcely believe it... it just happened again.

What the hell are these guys?

"What the hell was that?!" I exclaim. Pogue lets go of my waist and the fuzzy barricade drops.

"Don't be scared," Caleb calms me. "You know of the Salem Witch Trials?" He asks. I nod. "We're descendants of the five families. We were born with a power," he continues.

"Power," I echo. "Like...like magic?" Caleb nods. "And what you just did was..." I trail off, trying to wrap my head around it, but I don't think I have the mental capacity.

"Apart of it," Caleb confirms. "And that feeling you got when Pogue touched you was a result of him lending you some of his power to keep you from getting hurt. We don't normally do this around humans. They can easily get hurt, but with you, we had no choice."

"I...holy god," is all I can say, running my hands down my cheeks. It feels like my face is about to fall off.

"Now you know why we can't let anyone know," Caleb tells me quietly, gauging my reaction.

I stay silent. There's nothing I can say that will make any sense to my glitching brain. I can't process any coherent thoughts. It all just sounds like Tv static. I sit still, with my head in my hands, breathing evenly, or trying to at least. I can still feel whatever power the boys used still radiating off them. It pricks my skin like tiny needle heads, all along the length of my arms and legs. It's weird...and I'm not sure why I feel it. Does Kate feel it to when she's with Pogue? Does she even know? She's bound to. I mean, he's her boyfriend. If they can reveal such a secret to me, they can to the girls they're dating.

Right?

I want to believe it, but a part of me says otherwise. It's just all too much to bear at single moment's notice.

I remain tight lipped all the way to Caleb's place, where Pogue left his bike. Once the car is parked, they all pile out and gather around the hood, speaking privately to each other. Whether it's about me or not, I don't care. I just want to go home. Hopefully this is all some twisted dream and I'll wake up tomorrow comfortably nestled in my bed without a migraine. I stay in the car for five minutes, but decide to hop out when my legs become sore. The boys keep talking I barely catch what they say, save for a few words like, "secret", "safe", and "three hundred years."

I stand near the edge of the driveway, arms tightly crossed. A gust of wind blows a tendril of hair in my eyes, but I'm too cold to brush it away.

"What about her?" Tyler asks quietly, glancing at me. I zip up my jacket, shivering, and gaze up at the stars, pretending that I can't hear their discussion or don't care even though I do.

"She'll talk," Reid murmurs. He doesn't sound too happy about the situation.

"No, she won't," Caleb clips.

"How do you know that?"

"Because she's not stupid."

"She's a girl," Reid hisses. "Girls are blabbermouths."

That sends my blood boiling and I swivel to face them. "I _can_ keep a secret, you know," I declare. They appear a little apprehensive, but don't further question my proclamation. Well, some of them...

"Good," Reid says. "Because if word gets out what we are-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I cut him off. "You'll get branded as freaks and sent away to a lab to be studied." I mimic the motion of locking my lips and throwing away the key. "I won't tell a soul."

The glassy look in Reid's sheer blue eyes don't fade. "Better not. Cause' we know where you live." At first, I think he's serious and my expression crumbles with disturbance, but then he winks, making me smile.

"Can you drive her home?" Caleb askes Tyler.

The youngest boy's face falls. He looks at me regrettably. "I only have enough gas to make it to Reid's place and home. Sorry."

"It's fine. My house is only..." I pause, weighing the distance, then wave an arm south. "Ten miles that way."

Caleb glances at Pogue, who sits quietly on his shiny bike, protective helmet resting on one leg. They seem to share a mutual thought before Pogue sighs and nods. "Yeah, I'll take her." He sounds like he hates the idea. Does he not like me? I think to myself. Maybe he's worried I'll tell everybody at school that they're...magical.

"No, really, it's cool-" I object, but the words freeze on my tongue when I see him kickstart the motor.

"Alright, get on," Pogue says and tosses a spare helmet at me, which I clumsily catch with both hands. It's smaller than his, but painted a deep red. He notices my apprehension. "It's cool. I don't bite," he tells me, a smirk playing around his lips as he lifts the helmet to his face.

"Unless you ask him to," Tyler jokes. He chuckles when Pogue glowers at him.

I force a smile at the humor and begrudgingly approach his daring bike. Skeptism is an understatement. Bikes have never been apart of my life and the idea of mounting one is downright terrifying. I wanna make in home in one piece. Not pieces.

Caleb senses my dilemma. "Don't worry, he won't get you killed."

"How comforting," I retort, then carefully swing a leg over the backseat. From my peripheral vision, I see Tyler and Reid exchange smirks that most definitely have a hidden meaning behind them. God, these boys are weird. How did Kate get mixed together with these delinquents?

"Hang on," Pogue tells me, voice muffled by the helmet. I tentatively curl my arms around his middle, not wanting to excessively make physical contact. "You're gonna have to hold on tighter than that," he says when my grip remains loose.

I hold him tighter, praying to the girl code gods that I don't get bitch slapped for this tomorrow.

Caleb bumps fists with Pogue. "Drive safe."

"I'll see you later, man."

Before I can wave my goodbyes, the bike takes off at breakneck speed and my arms immediately knot closely around Pogue's waist so I stay stationary. I fear that we'll spin out of control, but he's a better rider than I think and controls the bike with ease, handling sharp turns with minimal danger zones. The cold spring air nips at my exposed skin and I subconsciously cling tighter to Pogue's warmth. He gives off such tangible heat. It's like drying off next to a burning coals. Our clothed contact sends a funny tickle in my stomach - like butterflies. Except these were high on LSD. I've been around plenty of boys in my time to distinguish certain emotions that boys evoke. Some you just want to bone senselessly and others have something special inside them that you feel in your chest cavity. A quiet tug.

I feel it with Pogue.

 _Stop_ , I abruptly tell myself. _This is Kate's man. You shouldn't even be in this position in the first place._

And I can't help but feel bad. Like I'm betraying my friend somehow by accepting a ride on his bike with my arms wrapped around him. Isn't this violation of the girl code? It feels like it is. Maybe I'm just being dramatic. Friends give each other rides when they need them, right? But the thing is, I'm not sure if I can call Pogue and I that. There's isn't even an 'us'. We just met an hour ago. I probably won't see him that much after tonight.

Probably.

After a few minutes, Pogue pulls into my driveway and cuts the engine, kicking out the stand. "Your stop," he says.

But I'm so lost in my thoughts, I barely realize he's talking to me. "Huh?" I blurt, stupidly.

"We're at your house," he clarifies slowly, like I'm mentally handicapped.

"Oh," I murmur and dismount the bike. I slip off the bulky helmet and shake out my hair. "Thanks for the ride," I say to him.

He takes off his helmet too before answering. "Anytime." When his face is free from the black visor, our eyes connect simultaneously, locking to each other like a two magnetic rings. There's an odd buzzing inside me - like the sense of deja vu that hits you when you walk down the street and pass by someone you're sure you know. The same feeling that overcame me earlier when I first saw him at the bonfire.

Only now it was stronger.

"Sorry," I apologize after a moment of staring impolitely, but he is guilty of it too. "You just...look like someone I know," I fib.

"Yeah," he says cautiously, just as bewildered. "I was gonna say the same."

"Wow," I breath, blinking once. "Weird, huh?"

"It's probably nothing," he dismisses, shrugging a shoulder. "It's a small town."

"Right," I nod along. "Small town." Silence overwhelms us for seconds. I scratch the skin between my eyebrows, the tension making me antsy. I'm never this dopey around boys. What's going on with me? "Well, goodnight," I finally say and begin to walk to my front door. But I turn around at the last minute, an impending thought striking my brain. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, how did you and Kate meet?"

Pogue looks taken aback. "You don't know?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Nothing," I respond and crack a smile. "You were quite the enigma."

He chuckles. "But isn't that what girls do? Gossip about shit like that."

"Some like their secrets," I tease. "Like you right now...avoiding the subject."

He rolls his eyes. "What do you want to know? We met. She liked me. Now we're dating."

"Oh, come on," I whine, walking closer. "There's got to be more than that."

He lifts one eyebrow. "Why are you so interested?" He asks.

I shrug and kick a stray pebble. "She's my friend. I just want to know if she's in good hands."

His eyes soften at that. "She is. I care about her. A lot." He pauses for a moment. "Her car broke down at a party. I was there and fixed it for her."

I let out an exaggerated 'aww' and place my hand over my heart. "That's so sweet."

"Hey, you wanted to know," he grumbles.

I laugh. "No, I mean it. That's really sweet. Nicer than..." Flashes of Cole seep behind my eyes and I cringe. "Uh, nevermind."

"What is it?" Pogue presses.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought of my ex-boyfriend right now. He was a real jerk."

"What did he do?"

"He just constantly blamed me for everything. Eventually I got tired of it."

"Sounds like you're better off without him," Pogue notes.

I shrug and inspect the tips of my shoes. "It doesn't feel that way sometimes."

"Forget about him," Pogue tells me. "You're obviously too good for him."

My head snaps up. Did he really say that? Or did I imagine it? "Thanks."

He nods. "Look, I gotta get going."

"Right," I say with a smile. "Don't wanna make the ball and chain unhappy, right?" He smirks and it nearly sends my heart into palpitations. He's so attractive. I swear, the scale grows higher and higher every time I look at him. Kate really scored a keeper. "Well, goodnight...Mr. Parry." I turn and skip up to my front door. The lights are on inside so I know either my mom or dad are bound to be awake. They'll probably bombard me questions about the party. They might as well buy one of those little mouth blowers cops use to detect drunk driving.

I unlock the door and head inside, hearing the bike crank to life in the driveway and peel away. My mom is at her mail desk, writing on what looks like important papers. She looks up when my footsteps patter into the foyer.

"Hey, hon," she greets. "How did it go?"

"Good," I respond, rubbing the back of my head. "Fun. Lots of people."

"That's nice," she replies absentmindedly, pen moving swiftly across the notepad. She doesn't say anything else, so I take the window of opportunity to bound upstairs to get unchanged. When I cross the threshold of my bedroom, I freeze.

And it hits me.

My car.

It's still left in the forest.

 _Shit,_ I curse mentally, smacking both hands to my forehead. How the hell am I going to get it back without my parents finding out? Then my ass will really be on the line. I begin to pace back and forth, brainstorming on ways to get to the disclosed woodlands that's over twenty miles away from my home. I guess I could ask Kate for a ride? But she's usually swamped with plans on the weekends. Maybe Sarah can help me, but it seems weird reaching out to her. She's still practically a stranger.

I chew on my thumbnail and flop on my bed. After fifteen minutes of thinking and planning and with no result in a foolproof method, I start to think about my own funeral instead. My parents will surely have my head if they find out I carelessly left my car out in the woods with no remembrance of the exact location. Yup. Definitely dead by tomorrow.

Burying my face in my pillow, I groan in absolute dread...

and hear metal clinking together outside my window. As if someone was messing with a motor, or putting parts back together. Alerted by the noise, I sit up and race to my window, yanking back the curtains.

_Holy shit._

There, sitting pretty in my driveway, is my car.

0000

As I sit in front of my mirror and brush the mats out of my hair, fresh from the shower, my vision blackens. It starts off as dots, before gradually forming into thick knots that completely block my sight. The brush handle tumbles out of my hand and I struggle to stand up, knocking the chair back in the process. Panic swells in my gut and I see images. Lot's of images. A boy...a young boy with copper hair inside a car, him seeing something horrifying, terror etching his teenaged face... then... his eyes turn white and my vision comes back with a blast of color.

I come to face to face with a dark figure staring at me though the mirror, grasping onto the other side with both decaying hands. A deep, ebony mass floats behind him. His skin is greying, rotten off the bone, and his mouth is open so wide it looks like an infinite pit.

My body thrums.

I scream.

And the mirror shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. :) ♥


	2. A Warm Place In Hell

**M** y mom bursts through the door, a loose fitting powder blue robe tied around her middle. Her face is clean and makeup free. She rushes to my side, taking in the glass shards littering my carpet and the petrified look on my face. "Cora? What is it? What's wrong?" Her cool hand touches my cheek, rotating my head so I have to look at her. "Why did you break your mirror?"

I can barely speak audible words. "I..." I stutter dumbly, staring into her eyes, but not really seeing them. Beyond her hazel irises, I see the dead boy, gazing back at me. Terror in his eyes, mouth open wide like he's trying to swallow the world. I swat my mom's hand away and stumble back, almost falling onto my back when my ankle knocks against the wooden legs of the vanity chair. There's a tremor in my bones, starting up my calf and crawling all the way up to my ribs, and it makes my breast plate vibrate with a strange buzzing. I don't know what's going on. Everything is fuzzy and unclear.

_What's happening to me?_

"Cora," my mom starts carefully, voice calm and calculating, holding up one hand like you would to a rabid dog that's about to bite. "It's okay. You're fine."

"I saw...I saw.." I stammer out, tongue twisted.

Her eyes sharpen. "What did you see?"

"Something." It comes out as a whisper and I stare vacantly into space, hands half way up as if I'm about to grab at something. I must look like a psycho.

Mom's lips part to speak, but then my dad appears in the doorway, salt and pepper hair slightly messy and sticking up in crazy directions. My blood-curdling scream must have roused him from sleep. "What in God's name is going on?" He demands. "Cora, why aren't you in bed? It's almost two in the morning." He appraises the remnants of the mirror. "And what did you do to your vanity?"

My mom sighs and crosses her arms. Her eyes never leave me. "She says she saw something."

Dad looks at me carefully. "What did you see?"

"I...um," I murmur, scratching the back of my head. I can't tell them. They can't know. If they find out I just saw a dark spirit, in my room no less, they'll pin me in a straight jacket and ship me off the the nearest psychiatric ward for sure. No...I can't tell them. Ever. "I, uh, I saw a spider, that's all. It was crawling all over my mirror, so I hit it with a shoe. I'm sorry I woke you."

Mom's eyes narrow, detecting the little white lie, but she doesn't probe me further with questions. I guess she's too tired to deal with it. Or planning to spring on the interrogation when I least expect it. It's happened before during my eight grade farewell dance when I came home past eleven o'clock curfew and wasn't confronted about until the next morning. The look of a grim reaper across your mother's features isn't something you want to see with a mouthful of french toast.

My dad, on the other hand, looks relieved. "Well, thank heavens. For moment there, I thought you were seeing ghosts." He laughs softly afterwords and I join in, but it sounds horribly fake, like bad actresses on infomercials. "Don't worry about your mirror," he tells me. "I'll pick up a new one tomorrow. Get some rest. It's late." He leans down to kiss my forehead, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear and wishes me goodnight.

I stand there, arms curled around my mid section, and hold in a breathe until Dad leaves the room. I expect Mom to follow in tow, but she waits there, looking at me with very aware eyes. It feels like she's picking me to pieces, deciphering why I just flat out lied to them like that. I know she'll bomb me with questions, baiting me into letting the truth slip out.

But she doesn't.

It's almost as if...she knows. "Sleep tight, hon," is all she says and with a simple kiss on the cheek, leaves me alone with my distress and broken mirror.

0000

Like expected, I wake up with the worst headache. I don't know if it's from the beer I had the other night or the fact that I dreamed of a red haired school boy clawing at my neck, shrieking in my ear like those ring wraiths from Lord of the Rings, so loudly my head was on the verge of implosion. God, that disappearing car trick with the Ipswich boys really screwed up the workings of my brain. I need a shower pronto.

The early Saturday morning shine filters through my curtains, the complete opposite of what I feel inside. I'm cranky, my forehead pulses, and I shun my parents until I'm fresh out of the shower with two Ibuprofen tablets coursing through my system. They don't inquire about my mood swings during breakfast, but I do notice the wary glances they shoot each other, like they're wondering if it's that time of the month and if they should stay away until it passes. If only that were the case. Tons of chocolate and Nicholas Sparks romance novels won't help these kinds of issues.

When my toaster strudel breakfast is finished, I retreat back to my room to get ready to head out with Mom. Every weekend, she runs small errands that I tag along with for company's sake. Normally, I love having the house to myself, but today is one of those days where you just want to go out and see the world. As I raid my closet, my cell phone rings. It's Kate.

I answer it swiftly. "Hello?"

"Hi!" She chirps, sounding greatly relieved. "I'm so sorry about last night. Sarah and I tried looking for you, but we couldn't find you anywhere and thought you already went home. God, that was so stupid of me. I'm sorry. We should have waited for you by your car."

I smile in appreciation at her apology. "It's fine, Kate. Don't worry about it. I got a ride home anyways."

"Yeah, Pogue called and told me he drove you. That's so sweet of him. So, what did you think?"

"About what?"

"About what?" She mocks. "I mean Pogue, dummy. You know I can't have my best friend and boyfriend hating each other."

Her words make my stomach crumble. "He's...cool, I guess," I say very precariously. "Drives like a lunatic, though."

Kate chuckles. "Right? He's so gorgeous. I knew he'd be perfect from the moment I saw him."

"Yeah, he told me how you guys met. It's like something out of Love Actually."

"Oh, shut up," Kate laughs again. "Okay, I know I haven't had the best history with guys, but I really like him. I think I actually might've found the right one this time."

It feels like someone is ripping out my organs with a chainsaw. Keep it together, Cora. "I can tell," I hum and lay a light blue long sleeve henley on my bed. They'll look nice with my dark wash jeans. "Well, he seems good for you."

"You think?"

"Totally. Hey, listen, I gotta run. But I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Bye!"

"Bye, Kate." I hang up and toss my phone on the mattress, sighing deeply. Well, that wasn't as horrid as I thought it would be. Sure, I still cringe and want to fling myself off the roof every time someone mentions the leather jacket wearing, bike riding boy, but hey, shit happens right? Right. No use fretting about it, so I continue getting ready, pondering my outfit choice for the day. The sky is spotless, but there's a chill in the air that tells me it's best to dress warmly. So I change quickly, not wanting to waste time and have Mom nag me for it. She never likes to be late for anything, even for errands that don't have an appointment set. Mom logic. Go figure.

After I'm done dressing, I run my brush through my hair to undo any knots or tangles from my post shower, finding no time to properly smooth or style it, then skip downstairs. When I reach the end of the banister, I hear pencil scribbling on thick sheets of paper and bound around the corner to see Mom at the mail desk. She's already dressed to go, clad in work attire.

"Yo, mom," I greet, rapping my knuckles on the white frame. "Ready to roll?"

"Just a minute," she answers, sticking a few stamps on some envelopes to drop off at the post office. "Alright, now we can go." She stands and slings her sleek black purse over her shoulder. Car keys jingle in her left hand.

I follow her out to the car, patting my pockets to make sure I have my mp3 player with me. I'd just die if I have to listen to another one of my mom's Phil Collins CD. So I position in the earbuds then crank up the volume, letting my head fall back against the cushion. Mom keys the ignition and pulls out of the driveway. We drive at a leisurely pace, windows rolled down so my pallid reflection doesn't make any surprise greets. I can't look at or pass any sort of mirrors now without thinking that something is gonna pop up on the other side, dark and decrepit. It's like someone spun this curse, to mock and torment me everywhere I go. Sounds batshit crazy, but it's the only explanation my stressed brain can come up with it.

Ugh, I really don't need this right now. Holing myself up in my room reading old Tiger Beat magazines been a better idea. Maybe next time. Sighing, I tilt my head slightly to the right so I can see past the roof of the car. The sky is a perfect cloudless blue, without a drop of grey.

When we cruise up on high overpasses, I just make out the very peaks of the mountains over the horizon, and just beyond that, clouds that look like pale white silk scarfs. I close my eyes and inhale the murky fresh air, lightly bobbing my head to My Love by Justin Timberlake. After stopping by the post office and dry cleaners, Mom sends me to pick up a few items at the local drugstore while she goes to the bank. It's within walking distance so I don't bother having her drive me. The weather is decent enough for a stroll anyways.

The market is cold when I step in, a local pop station playing on the radio overhead. I skim the aisle mom told me to search for and snatch up her requested item when I see it. Tampons. A woman's lifeline. Where would civilization be without them? Clutching the box to my chest, I spin on my heel towards the cash register and nearly run headlong into somebody's shoulder.

Kate.

"Sorry!" I apologize, not realizing it's her until I see her cheeky smile beaming at me. "Oh, hey!" I say, happier. "I didn't know you'd be here."

She giggles and hold up her shopping basket. It's half full. "I got a little list of my own." She glances at the box of tampons in my hands and frowns. "You too, huh?"

I look down at the bundle and laugh, almost forgetting about it. "Nah, this is for my mom, actually."

She nods. "I still have some things to get here. Want to come with?"

"Sure," I respond, shrugging and follow her onto the cosmetic and body care section. We chat about last night's party, which makes me go red in the face when she mentions the Ipswich boys. I wait for her to bring up how they can levitate two ton objects in a blink of an eye, but of course, she doesn't. Maybe it's the fact that we're in public. Or maybe she just doesn't know? How weird would that be?

Does anyone else know besides me?

As Kate reaches for a magazine, a tall slim figure at the counter catches her eye. "Hey, Caleb."

The teen heartthrob turns toward us, little white bag in hand. "Oh, hey, Kate. Hey, Cora. What are you guys up to?"

"I'm just stocking up our room," Kate explains.

I hold up the box of tampons. "Mother nature run." I smile at Caleb's uncomfortable expression.

"Gross," he mutters.

I laugh.

"Did you hear about the dead kid?" Kate asks him, lowering her voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," Caleb tells her guardedly. His eyes quickly flash to me, like he knows what happened the other night in my room.

"Wait, what dead kid?" I pipe in, just to be sure.

"A guy from our school was found dead last night in his car," Kate informs me. "I sat next to him in AP History. I never knew his name, though."

"Did...did he have red hair?" I ask tentatively. The look in Caleb's eyes shift, but I can't tell if it's good or bad.

"Yeah, he did. Why?" Kate says.

I shrug and look down at my shoes. The white edges are stained with rain water. "No reason."

Kate looks confused on why I would ask that, but doesn't press it. She faces Caleb again. "Did you know him?"

Caleb takes his sweet time answering. "No. No, he...uh, transferred in."

"Yeah, I heard he lived on Reid and Tyler's floor."

Caleb looks like he's about to say something else, but then a familiar blonde head bops around the corner. It's Sarah. She smiles so wide like the Chesire Cat when she sees the brown haired hunk. "Hi," she says dreamily.

Caleb charms her. "Hi there."

Apparently mad game doesn't come with magical superpowers.

"Boo!" A random dude pops out from the woodwork, supporting disco looking glasses. It's none other than Chase Collins, the guy Kate and Sarah were lusting after at the party. He exchanges handshakes with Caleb. Such manly manners.

"Um, I'm gonna see if Pogue wants to catch that new Brad Pitt flick this afternoon," Kate announces. "Who else wants to go?"

"I will," Chase quickly volunteers. Gee, I wonder why...

Caleb respectfully bows out. "I gotta run some errands for my mother."

I don't miss the eye sex between him and Sarah. Sheesh, just screw each other already. "I already saw it," Sarah proclaims.

Kate gives her a knowing smile, then turns to me, her final option. "Cora?"

Sitting in a stuffy movie theater for two hours with my best friend, her insanely attractive boyfriend and some guy who I barely know? Not gonna happen. I let her down gently. "I can't. I have to go with my dad to get his car fixed." Which is actually plausible. We did make a prior commitment for it earlier in the week.

Kate frowns. "Bummer. Oh, well. Maybe next time?"

I nod and force myself to smile. "Definitely." Truth is, I just can't be around her boyfriend without giving myself an ulcer. He makes my veins feel like their about to explode in a way no guy ever should. Not even Cole gave me such feelings.

Yup, I'm attracted to my best friend's boyfriend.

And I'm definitely going to hell for it.

Before I can say my goodbyes and sneak away without a fuss, I feel Caleb's hand lightly touch my arm. His cider colored eyes are on me, surprisingly narrow and alert. Like he knows something...knows what happened to me last night. But that's impossible. He can't know...Can he?

"Can we talk for a minute?" He asks me seriously and his gaze quickly darts to the other three. "Just the two of us."

I'm caught off guard, to say the least. No more than two seconds ago, he was probably mentally stripping down Sarah, now he suddenly wants some super secret private conversation with me? Can this day get any weirder?

Guess so.

"Oh, uh.. yeah. Sure," I say tentatively and follow Caleb to a secluded corner of the store by the candy section.

"What happened last night after Pogue dropped you off?" He demands the moment we're cut off from the group.

I hesitate for a second, but the intense gleam in his eyes tells me that he'll know if I'm lying or not. There's no choice but to explain what I saw, whether it makes me look like an idiot or not. "I was in my room," I begin carefully. "Just brushing my hair...then all of a sudden, I couldn't see. Everything went black. Then... then-" I struggle to get the difficult part out. My throat runs dry. "Then I saw flashes, like memories, but they weren't of me. I saw the dead kid from the paper. He was in his car. He looked normal, I guess, but then looked really, really scared. Like he saw something terrifying. And then...he was...he was-" A bundle of emotion lodges in my chest.

"Dead," Caleb finishes for me, softly.

I nod, sniffling. "When I opened my eyes, he was in my mirror, staring at me. It looked like he wanted help. I thought I was going crazy. I screamed so loudly it broke my mirror."

"What time did this happen?"

"Around two-thirty."

Caleb grows quiet for a long time after my story finishes and studies my expression. He sighs after a minute and runs a hand through his inky hair. "I heard it," he murmurs.

"What?" I gawk.

"I heard you scream. It was like an echo, but I felt it deep in my chest. We all did."

"We?" I repeat. "You mean the other boys?"

He nods. "I called them after it happened. They said they heard it too, at the exact same time I did."

I squeeze the box tightly in my hands, cardboard bending by the force. "Is this...normal?" I ask tentatively, uncertain if he'd openly talk to me about his powers.

He thinks for a moment. "No. Not really. I mean, we're warlocks, but our senses don't usually reach out this far. This never happened before."

 _Never happened before,_  his words repeat in my head. So what does this mean? "Maybe it's nothing," I suggest, curling my toes inside my shoes. The rubber sole squeak on the linoleum. "It has to be a coincidence...right?"

Caleb's lips part to speak, but then Kate bounces around the corner, grinning from ear to ear like she'd just written something juicy in her burn book. "What are you two gossiping about?" She chimes in a high voice.

I quickly rack my brain for a cover up. "Oh, just about how fake Michelle Rowley's implants are."

Caleb fakes a believable smile as Kate giggles. "Oh god, tell me about it."

I force a laugh and wait in line to pay for my mom's tampons, then trail behind the others as they file out of the shop. They bid their goodbyes for the while while I awkwardly wave mine. Now that I have what I came here for, it's time to get back to mom and tie up the rest of our loose ends. The bank is only two blocks away. Mom's still talking with a teller when I walk through the double doors, sitting on one of those scratchy chairs in the corner. It looks like she's making out a check. Her cursive writing shows that thousands of dollars are being thrown down, but she quickly slides the paper to the employee before I can see who it's made out to.

Hmm. Suspicious?

I think yes.

0000

At home, my dad installs a brand new mirror on my vanity top. It's bigger and wider than my old one, with round edges instead of square. It makes my room look fluorescent. I spend ten minutes running my hand over the smooth, spotless surface, curling my short fingernails over the space where the dead boy appeared, trapped in what seemed like another dimension. The memory is still fresh and haunts me throughout the day, no matter what I do. I can't hear a stranger's voice without jumping a mile in the air.

A breeze feels like ghostly fingertips dancing across my skin, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. Thinking is more of a recipe for disaster than a process of calmness. After a while, I grab a jacket from my closet and head downstairs to meet my dad at his car. I still have to go with him to the mechanic's garage. Something about his check engine light going off. The foils of car trouble. Oh, well. At least he's going to buy me dinner afterwards.

The ride to the shop is a quiet one. I forgot my mp3 player, so I'm forced to listen to whatever jazz station my dad tunes the radio to. It all sounds like elevator music, but I find myself tapping my foot to the bass. Somehow Sade always gets me jammin'. I roll the windows completely down so the wind can cool off my warm face and push the annoying wisps of hair away from my temple. The mechanics garage isn't that far of a drive. If I had the right shoes, I could easily walk there. But I'm not athletically enthusiastic to make the journey. Honestly, I didn't want to come along in the first place, but dad has odd ways of poaching my company. This time he used food. Clever.

We pull up to the shop ten minutes later. It doesn't look very busy, which is good. I really don't feel like waiting around forever and missing our dinner date. An old greasy looking guy comes up to us as we walk to the garage. A blue oil stained rag is clutched in his right hand and he uses it to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He must be the owner. Dad and him chat over problems with his car, wagering prices. The words they use don't make a lick of sense to me. Automotive talk. I stand there quietly, shivering from the chill and wishing I had my mp3 player more than anything.

After a while, they walk to the garage where a car is already being tinkered with and I follow closely behind. It reeks of spoiled beer, cigarette smoke, and sweaty men. Great. At this point, I'll never have an appetite for dinner.

"It'll take about an hour or so," the greasy dude tells my dad. "One of my boys will work on it right away." He glances over his shoulder at someone. "Parry!"

In my stupid, slow mind, the name doesn't click right away. Until the said guy turns around from the bike he was messing with. He takes two steps toward us and freezes. His dark eyes fall on me, broad shoulders that are surprisingly not clad in leather stiffening. Our gaze meet simultaneously.

Pogue.

I blink once in surprise. Heat floods my cheeks. "Oh, hi," I mutter.

"Hi," Pogue says just as guardedly.

The old guy's eyebrows raise suggestively. "Friend of yours?" He asks Pogue.

The handsome teen raises and drops one shoulder. They're slightly damp with perspiration. Mother of god. "We go to school together."

"Hmph," the owner mumbles and turns to my dad, who's pulling out his wallet. They walk off to make an advanced payment and my legs scream to follow, but I can't move from my spot. I'm rooted here. And Pogue is still staring at me. Geez.

"What are you doing here?" We say at the same time. "I asked you first," and again.

Well, this is awkward, I think to myself and scratch the side of my neck. We gaze at each other with uncertainty for a few seconds, weighing who will crack first.

I lose. "My dad needed his car fixed," I say after a moment of unwavering silence.

"Yeah, I figured," he answers sarcastically.

I glare at him. Smartass. "So what's your excuse?"

"I work here."

"Since when?"

"Last summer."

"Oh," I mutter and the conversation quickly dies as he turns and strides over to my dad's car occupying the empty space in the garage. He opens the hood, flicks up the metal rod and surveys the damage. Black gunk sticks to his fingers. Ew.

His bike sits alone and unfinished toward the side, tools scattered everywhere and oil smeared on the cement. It looks like he was right in the middle of fixing something. I approach it slowly, keeping my hands to myself and just gaze at it wondrously. Remembering how fast it went the night he took me home makes want to ride it again. The color is just so bright and entrancing.

Pogue notices my fascination. "You like bikes?"

"Yeah, they're pretty cool," I say. "If they don't almost kill me." He chuckles deeply then, low, but so masculine. It should be a federal crime to have a laugh that sexy. Good god, focus, Cora. I lightly clear my throat and turn to him as he starts fiddling with something under dad's car hood, eyeing the way his biceps flex every time he moves his arms. Sweet Jesus. "Is something wrong with it?" I incline my head to his flashy motor vehicle.

"The brakes are a little faulty," he tells me and pulls back from the hood. So we could have spun out of control or collided with a mack truck when he was driving me home last night? How comforting. Remind me not to hitch a ride with him again.

"So why a bike?" I inquire curiously.

"What?"

"Why get a bike instead of a car? That doesn't seem practical."

He shrugs. "It was my dad's."

"He gave it to you?"

"Yeah," he replies and wipes the excess oil on his faded jeans. They hug his legs very nicely. Holy hell, I need to stop. "Sixteenth birthday."

Lucky bastard. "Awesome," I remark in awe. "Wish I had something better than my useless Prius."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It breaks down a lot."

"Shit, that must be rough," Pogue comments, still ducked under the hood. "Let me know whenever you need a lift," he says and pulls back from the engine. His voice lowers a little. "I'll give you a ride anytime." I raise my eyebrows at the suggestive context, pulse pounding, which he seems to catch and clears his throat. "Uh, I meant-"

I cut him off stiffly, leaning the passenger door. "Yeah, I know what you meant." And it nearly made my ovaries explode.

We gaze at each other for a minute before turning away. Minutes pass in uncomfortable silence.

Pogue continues working on the car, occasionally switching out tools or drying his oil grimed hands on a small towel. I keep my position on the door, pretending to inspect my nails, but really watch him out of the corner of my eye as he fixes up the problems. The atmosphere has definitely turned awkward. It's like I walked into a den full of lions when I'm just a gazelle. Uncharted and very off limit territory. I should be keeping my distance from this guy, not frothing at mouth by his glorious physique. His shoulders look so broad in that muscle shirt. God, I need to stop. Even mental flirting is a breach of the girl code.

I don't know why he bothers me like this. And it's only when we lock irises. It makes me feel so...naked. I'm not down with that kind of public indecency. But more than anything, I'm wondering if he's thinking about what happened last night as much as I am. He did hear me scream. Is that why he looked so uncomfortable when he saw me earlier? I want to ask him, but not here. Not in public. So we both stay quiet, until the silence becomes too bleak for me to tolerate.

"So, um," I begin lamely. "Have you known the boys long?"

"Yeah. We sort of grew up together."

"That's heartwarming."

He rolls his eyes. "So, about that night..."

I hold my breathe, waiting him to finally mention the elephant in the room. Figuratively speaking. Duh. "What about it?"

"What were you doing at the party?"

"What do you mean?"

"Not too many girls like you go-"

"Girls like me?" I echo. "What do you mean girls like me?"

Pogue sighs and wipes his oil slick hands on on rag. "You know what I mean. Nice girls like you."

"Oh, and Kate's not nice?" I oughta kick him in the balls for that.

"That's not what I said."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Christ, you're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Pogue remarks pointedly, though playfulness is in his eyes.

I just glare at him. "Yes. I do."

We stare at each for a second, tense, and a little uneasy. The more my eyes narrow, the wider his grin grows. His smile is so beautiful...wait, no, stop. I'm supposed to be annoyed with him right now. "What are you smirking at?"

He shrugs, not saying anything, and stares at me for what seems like infinity until my cheeks flush and I sever contact. His smoulder is so intense, I can't meet it levally without looking at my shoes instead. A chunky knot forms in my stomach, tingly and aching. Damn it. It's happening again. That radioactive feeling I get whenever he looks at me. My body warms and the lines in my palms wets with perspiration. What does this mean? Is it his magical powers that are causing this? Or does my screaming like a mental person the other night have something to do with it?

There's so many questions, but I don't know when will be the right time to ask them.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you're-" Pogue starts, halfway hidden under the hood again. He ponders for the right word. "Sensible. Not a lot of girls at Spenser are like that."

"Except Kate," I add tersely.

"Yeah," he mutters, and there's an unreadable layer to his tone. "Except Kate."

We don't speak much after that. The soft tinkering of tools goes on, with a radio playing faintly in the background and the occasional swearing mechanic. After an hour or so, my dad and the owner walk in, talking animatedly. They shake hands as Pogue closes the hood and tucks the filthy rag in his back pocket. I move over to my dad, hearing Pogue follow after a moment, and stand close behind.

"Everything looking okay?" The owner asks.

Pogue nods and crosses his arms. "Looks good to me."

"Bring her back if you start hearin' some noises," the owner tells my dad. "Could be a loose fan belt." It always weirds me out that some mechanics refer automobiles as a 'her' or 'she'. It's an  _it_  for God's sake.

Dad dips his head once and puts a hand on my back. "Thank you again. Let's go, honey."

He guides me out of the garage as one of the workers backs the car into the parking lot. The owner hands the keys back to dad. I glance over my shoulder at Pogue, finding him leaning against the garage frame with his arms crossed. He's already looking at me. "See you at school?" I tell him.

"Guaranteed," he says and smirks. My stomach flips and I try to smile naturally, but it just makes me feel dumb, so I hop in the passengers seat before the shame meter can go any higher. My face flushes as I buckle the seat belt in and dad starts the engine. He doesn't notice the blush in my cheeks, which I'm grateful for. Oblivious fathers are heaven sent.

As we drive home, I lean my cheek against the window pane and replay the conversation I had with Pogue in my head. His voice, eyes, lips and body are so...hypnotic. Every detail about him sends my blood pumping. It's like I just met a member from 98 Degrees. No other boy has made me feel so giddy. Not even Cole, as sad as that sounds, who was my first and only real boyfriend. It sounds so wrong, but I don't know how to get rid of these thoughts of him. He's just so ridiculously charming and oozes this grungy appeal.

Yep, I'm definitely attracted to my best friend's boyfriend.

There's a warm place in hell for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	3. How To Gain Friends and Alienate People

**D** inner consisted of six Spring rolls, two plates of sweet and sour pork, followed with at least three bowls of miso soup. What was supposed to be a nice family evening turned into me tasting whatever Dad ordered off the menu in Mom's absence. She had to stay overtime at work and couldn't make it the trip. Dad pretty much spend the whole time balancing his check book due to his heavy down payment on the car, occasionally taking a bite out of whatever happened to be served on his plate. so it was basically just me binge eating to the bop of my mp3 player. Kind of sad and pathetic when you think about it, but oh well. It was totally worth it. I was never one to walk away from an all-you-can eat. Not to mention the leftovers we could bring home for later. That'd save me a good chunk of lunch money. I was tired of expired pudding cups and lunch meat with mysterious smells to them.

We pull up to the driveway around nine o'clock, the light fixture built in the corner of the porch automatically switching on. Our neighborhood has very suburban, all American feel, so no craziness has really gone on in the past year or so. Except the summer parties the other teenagers throw two block down when their parents are away and the cops end up showing up to bust them in. That's always amusing to watch on the news. After storing the takeout boxes in the fridge, I skip up the stairs to my room. It's always cold in here during this season, so I usually keep the door shut and the curtains closed for insulation. The radio is still playing a generic station when I come in and flick on the light. Clothes, both clean and dirty, are scattered in various places, along with with different colored notebooks for school. It's a total mess, yet everything can be found easily. Organized chaos, as Mom once put it. Kicking off my shoes, I shrug out of my jacket and hang it up in my closet, then flop into bed. The mattress springs and bounces me up and down, like a trampoline. I sigh in contentment, tummy happy and full, then shut my eyes.

The soft chorus of Ne-Yo's So Sick filters through the room and out of the partial crack in my window. Dad never remembers to patch it up. Cold air ghosts over my lips. My body is so relaxed. All I want to do is curl up on my side, snuggle my favorite purple fuzzy pillow and sleep.

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP...BEEP BEEP BEEP._ **

My cell phone rings. Of all the damned times...

I groan, slapping my hands over my eyes. "Go away."

**_BEEP BEEP BEEP._ **

Fishing around in my pocket, I pull out the bulky mobile device. "Son of a-" I mutter before picking up and faking a chipper voice. "Hello?"

"Cora!" It's Kate. "How was dinner with the fam?"

I yawn and stretch one arm. "Oh, good. Indulging."

"Feel like coming out tonight?" She asks.

"I don't know," I say wearily. "I'm pretty tired."

"Just for a little while. Please? I'm meeting Sarah and the boys at Nicky's. You should come."

Oh, brother. Sitting in a cramped booth with my best friend's gorgeous boyfriend and his ragtag group of magic practicing buddies. Yeah, sure. Sounds pleasurable. Not.

Kate begs further at my silence. "Please? I know you don't like going out late on nights when we have school the next day, but do this for me just this once? I promise I won't ask ever again." She sounds like a little girl when she talks like that. How can I say no? It'll be like kicking a puppy.

I sigh. "Yeah, okay. Why not?"

"Really?" She quips.

I smile at the happiness in her tone. "Really. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"Okay. Bye!"

"Bye, Kate."

Turning my phone off, I toss it on the bed and get up to pick out a fresh change of clothes. I've been wearing this jean and henley getup for almost twelve hours. Nicky's is generally treated like a club, with people adorning dark colors, but I'm not in the mood to dress up tonight, so I settle for comfort instead and switch into a pair of dark wash jeans, red camisole that's been buried in my closet for who knows how long and my prized American Eagle jean jacket that never fails to keep me cozy. Massachusetts weather is always chilly during the fall. Better to be warm than freeze my ass off. Taking one last look at the average reflection in the mirror, I grab my keys and cell before trotting down to the driveway.

Well, here goes nothing.

Also called my life.

0000

This place is a jungle.

I've only made it to the parking lot and so far, what I've seen is the stuff of nightmares. Drunk idiots stumble in and out of the entrance, laughing and shouting like they're at a frat party. Actually, this might be worse. Beer pong and strip poker is a step up from this hot mess. But there's no point in sitting here in my overheated car, so I turn off the engine and step out. The wind blows wisps of my hair as I lock the doors and the tuck the keys into my bag. My boots make an audible clink all the way to the door. There's barely any space for me to move around. My shoulders bump into people's backs, feet trip over each other and I swear I can smell pot. The stench is more putrid than used cat litter. Lovely. Cole brought me here once for our first date, back when Sketchers were the hottest thing on the market and every girl wore scrunchies in their hair. Freshman year was a very horrifying time for fashion. But at least I made a lot of great memories, both bad and good. Though, the bad ones tend to linger for a little while longer.

I wade through the crowd until my body slips into six inches of space, allowing me to breathe. The bar is full of hungry paying customers, some angry that their placed order is taking up some time to arrive. Nobody has patience these days. Such a shame. I skim the bar for Kate's plucky persona, but don't see her anywhere. She must be at the tables. Scanning every group, my eyes pass over each one until they reach the middle. A soprano voice giggles, an all too familiar tune. There she is. Sitting with Sarah, Caleb and some other dude. What's his name again? Oh, how my memory fails me.

No sign of the other boys though.

"You're here!" Kate chimes happily when I walk up. Her smile is infectious, tugging at the corners of my own mouth.

The seat between her and Sarah is empty. "So where's Dream Street?" I joke, making myself comfortable.

Kate laughs. "I don't know. They're probably somewhere messing around." She shrugs cutely, but doesn't mention the boyfriend. Thank god. Maybe he's not coming. Now this night won't be so terrible. "Want a drink?" Kate offers.

"I don't have much money on me," I frown, hanging my jacket on the back of the chair.

"I'll share mine with you," Sarah suggests and pushes her glass mug of soda to me.

"Oh, thanks," I say with a smile and take a sip from the white bendy straw. Ice cold sweetness floods my taste buds. Mmm, Pepsi.

As the night goes on, Kate goes on about how hot Brad Pitt was in his new flick, cracking jokes and making us laugh, while Caleb and Sarah trade flirty smiles. I can hear the wedding bells already. It's like these boys can attract anything with a reproductive organ within a thirty mile radius. Must be the magic. I sit there comfortably, listening and giggling at the stories Chase retells from his old private school. He's actually not that bad of a guy. I got major douche vibes radiating off him in the drug store earlier, but maybe that was only because of Caleb. They don't really act like enemies, but not necessarily friends either. The shit media says about girls being the most dramatic is a lie; guys can be just as catty as us. Especially in high school or if you get a teeny tiny amount of dirt on their brand new white kicks.

"Oh, hey, baby!" Kate greets someone from behind me. Every part of my body freezes and a familiar scent wafers into the air. Musky, like diluted gasoline and the pure tantalizing scent of boy.

Sweet Jesus. He's here.

Pogue.

"You missed a great movie," Kate gushes and kisses his cheek when he approaches her. My stomach clenches. I don't care. I totally do not care. This is a prime example of me not caring at all.

"Yeah, I had to get my bike fixed," Pogue answers and glances at me, eyes darkening slightly, which doesn't help my thumping heartbeat at all. I think I need an ambulance.

"That's cool. Chase hung out and kept me company," Kate responds, touching the said guy on his arm. Right. That's his name.

"I'll just bet he did," Pogue remarks, giving Chase a very salty side-eye glare and peels off his jacket. God, no, please keep it on. And of course he doesn't. His biceps are practically carved from the Greek Gods, glistening under the low light.

I stand up abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Kate questions when I turn to walk away.

My brain skips for a believable excuse. "Oh, uh, I just need a minute," I fib and it's clear it's not a well acted one, as confusion etches Kate's features. This isn't the first wool I've tried pulling over her eyes, but given our almost ten year friendship, we've known to read each other's emotions and when to let one another be when they need it. It's feels like I'm low balling her like this, coyly trying to avoid the group all because I just so happen to be wickedly attracted to the guy she's with, but at this point, there's not much else to hide behind. Running way like a lame little girl is not generally like me, but if it keeps space between the danger zone and I, I'll do it. The bar seems like a safe choice. The path is clear, so I tip toe up to the counter and sit on one of the vacant stools. It doesn't feel claustrophobic like the tables. There's plenty of elbow room and right under the air conditioner.

I prop my chin on my hands and watch as the owner flips a burger on the grill top. Ugh, this is ridiculous. Got my panties twisting over some leather wearing, bike riding boy. Sure, he's tall, dark, muscular, cute and mysterious and obviously good with any kind of motor vehicles. So what? A lot of boys are. I can name... well, zero. But this isn't me. I don't lose my marbles over some dude. It happened once and shockingly, a nice relationship developed. Then it turned dysfunctional, our bond distanced and we couldn't settle an argument without shifting the blame on each other. Not exactly the best way to end a first boyfriend, but in life it's sort of better not to expect anything at all. Good surprises usually feel better that way. After that disaster, I vowed to never be fooled by a charming smile again. Now look where I am. Life has a funny way of screwing me over.

"You okay?" A voice asks next to me.

I jump, startled. Freakin' Pogue. Did he follow me or something? "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm good. What, are you stalking me now or something?"

"Whoa, easy," Pogue backtracks, holding up his hands slightly. "I was just asking-"

"Well, you don't have to. I'm fine." DING DING DING. My bitch radar is going off and it's all sourcing from me. Guilt immediately settles in my chest when I see his eyebrows pull together, probably wondering how a girl could openly talk him then avoid him hours later like he's death's embrace. Smooth, Cora. Now he probably thinks I'm a psycho and never wants to talk to me again. "I'm sorry. I just...I need a minute alone, okay?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I get it," he answers. He doesn't sound angry or freaked by my mood swing. A smirk even plays across his lips, like he knows what I'm feeling. Oh, God. I hope he never knows. He must never, ever, ever know. I might just have to apply for Witness Protection Program if he does.

I smile at him and hop off the stool, then weave my way to the unsanitary bathrooms. The stall doors are painted a uniform blue, chipped in certain areas, sloppy phone numbers and other handwriting marked all over them. It smells like Clorox and used condoms. Who knows what else it looks like under the lids. I shudder at the thought and walk to the clearest mirror. The sinks look like they haven't been cleaned in over twenty years, soap scrum and other build-up caked around the handles. Disgusting. I yank a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and use it to dab my damp face, too cowardly and germ phobic to use the grimy tap. The water is probably brown too. Ugh.

After balling the paper and tossing it in the trash, I rake my fingers through my hair, separating the tangled clumps and split ends. Parties and drunk scenes always get under my skin. It's like a curse. I'm not made for that type of fun, I guess. At least not the kind that causes you to lose your memory in the morning. I used to be like that, back when I dated Cole and thought he was the hottest thing since Jesse McCartney. He dragged me to almost every single party a Spenser student threw. I wanted to prove that I could keep up with everything and wasn't afraid to try new things, no matter what was mixed in the red solo cup; something that I learned the hard way. But Kate was always there to bring me to my feet again and to tell me it'd get better. And for a while, it did. Until all the partying and drinking just burned me out. I'd rather much be at home with a tub of Ben & Jerry's while marathon watching One Tree Hill.

But I'm here now, so I might as well make the best of it.

"Hi, my name is Cora and I'm totally not miserable," I chant once to my mirror reflection, then force my ass out the door. The crowd looks bigger. More people grind and girate on the dance floor to an outdated pop tune.

"Cora!" A voice calls as soon as I exit the bathroom. It's Tyler. He's with the other boys at the foosball table. I guess him and Reid are taking a break from their swindling. "Come sub for us!"

Eh, why not? Beats wandering around like an imbecile.

"Toss us back the balls when they go down," Tyler adds when I stride up.

"I'm sure you're already familiar with that," Reid hints.

I glare at him playfully. He's lucky I don't have anything sharp in my hand. His own nards could go mysteriously missing and end up on the Black Market. "Shut up." His impish chuckle makes me smile. He's really not so bad. Sort of.

I watch them play and retrieve the balls from the opening when they're shot down, laughing as we go. They get so into the game, as if it's a real sport, rather than flimsy pieces of plastic. Pogue and Caleb successfully defend their perfect score against Reid and Tyler - the latter cursing every time they miss a shot. Pogue's biceps are so taut and defined, flexing every time he twists a handle. No, stop it. Look away. He's off-limits. Don't look at him like that ever again. Don't even think about looking at him. As I lean down to pick up the balls and throw them back onto the game mat, my arm accidentally brushes against Pogue's, bare skin mingling. It feels like an electric current is passing through us simultaneously. We move our arms away at the same time, giving each other a brief, perplexed look before their game resumes again.

I lightly rub at the spot on my arm, wondering what exactly that was and why whenever him and I touch, a shocking feeling comes between us. It can't be just a coincidence. Not after almost four instances. The boys play on, keeping scores and boasting each other with one of them makes a hit. Their usual flare of energy feels different that the last time they were all together. Caleb is sending Reid some very firm, almost suspicious glances; the kind Dad gives me when I forgot to set the dishwasher and try to weasel my way out of it with a lie. The blonde boy seems like the type who can't step two feet out of his house without signaling police sirens, but granted how lenient Caleb acted of his wily ways at the party, it makes me wonder what he did wrong to make their fearless leader so upset. That's brotherhood for you.

When I chuck the balls onto the game mat, one of them accidentally knocks against Reid's hand and he playfully throws it back at me, but it flies a little too high, surging toward my cheek. Pogue catches it in his hand before it can make contact and glares at the blonde. Reid just smirks and shrugs.

I laugh.

"Cora?" A voice calls from the bar stools. My shoulders stiffen. I'd know that voice even if I was deaf. It's Cole.

My heart drops to my stomach as I slowly peer behind me at the voice's direction and see him sitting on one of the stools. His body is angled toward me, one arm rested on the counter and once our eyes meet, he hops off and advances straight toward us. "Oh, jesus," I whine, spinning back around so he doesn't see my expression. "What's he doing here?"

All of the boys stop what they're doing. "You know him?" Tyler asks.

I nod, pondering the chances of army diving under the foosball table with giving away position. "He's my ex-boyfriend." Pogue's eyes darken at that.

And as if on cue. "Cora!" Cole's voice resonates in my ear. His footsteps stop inches away.

Trying to hide the utter horror, I pivot to face him hesitantly. "Hey," my voice comes out mildly timid.

"Hey!" Cole replies enthusiastically, eyes bright and full of mirth. It's so clear as day he's buzzed off a Heineken or two. Why did I date this guy again? "It's been awhile, hasn't it? How have you been?"

"Good, I guess," I say with no interest at all, gazing at my shoes. The boys' solid presence grows thicker and thicker with each ticking second, like they're weighing Cole's level of dickhead. I mean, he's not an entirely hateable guy, but what do they have against him?

"Listen, a couple of my friends and I are getting together to my place for a few drinks. My brother's bringing a couple of kush bags he bought fresh from Josh. You should come with us."

Wow. Didn't see this coming. "Umm," my brain sputters. "I don't think I can. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?" Cole attempts to coax. "You don't have to drink or smoke if you don't want to. Unless it's with me. " He flashes me a stupid smirk that used to make my heart skip. Now it feels like I'm going to lose my dinner.

"Beat it, asshole," Reid dismisses him. "Cora's with  _us_."

Cole's jaw tightens, but his eyes stay focused on me. "Look, can we talk? In private?"

I glance back at the boys, biting my lip when I see their deadly serious faces. Pogue has his arms crossed and is looking at me, shaking his head slightly as if to signal the obvious answer. The others never take their sights off Cole. What's with them? Do magic practitioners also sense what teenaged boys true intentions are? Where were they when I first met him? Nevertheless, this is my battle and mine alone. I have to nip it in the bud.

"Okay, fine," I give in. "But just for a minute."

Cole grins and puts a hand on my lower back as he leads me out the side door. I forgot what his touch is like. Not as great as I remember. He shuts the door halfway so there's privacy and glances around to make sure we have the alleyway to ourselves. Pogue's bike is park just along the bend. A gust of wind blows past us and I shiver, crossing my arms tightly. My jacket is hanging forgotten on the chair. Through the crack, I see the boys still surrounding the foosball table. Pogue watches the direction where we left from, the others talking quietly next to him, but I'm not sure if he can see me through the space. Hope not.

Cole eyes me lewdly, soft blue eyes glazed over. He's on one for sure. "You look great tonight," he compliments and it doesn't sound forced.

Still, it's awkward to take, after so much time we've spent apart. "Oh, uh, thank you," I say, lightly rubbing the side of my neck.

Cole slips his hands into his jean pockets and glances at the asphalt. "I'v been thinking about you lately," he swallows thickly. "About us. I... I miss you. I miss our talks over the phone at night." He trails off and a beat passes in silence.

"And?" I pry for more.

"What do you think about picking up where we left off?"

Oh, get real. "No."

Cole raises an eyebrow. "No?"

"Cole, I told you before that I wanted out, okay?" I sigh. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect me to take you back because you ask for it. That's not how it works. I'm in a decent place now. We're better off as friends anyways."

"Come on, Cora. I know we fought a lot and I acted like a dick, but if you give me another chance I'll-"

"You're not gonna get another chance," I cut him off briskly. "You're not gonna get anything." Sounds brutal, but it's true. I've made way too much progress to regress now.

His hand flies to my waist when I move for the door, squeezing softly. "Cora, come on."

I try to push him away, but my protest runs short and a tiny sliver of panic bubbles in my chest. Cole was never the violent kind, but people can change. For the worse. But then the door opens behind us and the unmistakable voice of a very pissed off looking Pogue Parry hovers in the tall frame. "This guy bothering you?" He asks roughly, eyes narrow and glued to Cole. The imposing presence of the much larger teenaged boy invokes Cole to release his grip on my waist.

"No," I say, looking up at Pogue for a moment, then back at my ex. It feels like a chain has just been unlocked. "Not anymore."

Cole frowns as I turn away from him to head back inside. "Hey, we weren't finished talking," he states angrily, making both Pogue and I pause.

"Really?" Pogue remarks sarcastically. "Looks like you are to me."

Cole attempts to follow when I ascend the steps, Pogue's hand grazing the small of my back when I pass. "Cora, just let me explain-" But Pogue blocks him off, a big hand to the smaller guy's chest.

"Leave her alone, man," Pogue warns him. "She's not interested."

They stare at each other for a minute, silent, eyes tight and filled with so much tension you'd think they were seconds away from limbering up and going at it. This is what happens when you put too much testosterone in one tiny establishment. Someone will have to reap the consequences sooner or later. And by that, I mean pay a whole lot out of their pocketbook. But surprisingly no fists swing between the angsty fellas and Pogue breaks away to follow me back inside to the boys. My chest deflates with relief. Phew. That was a close one. For a minute there, I thought I'd have to don a striped shirt and blow a referee whistle.

Pogue runs a big hand through his hair, making it slight sway a little more unkempt. His bicep flexes at the action. God, Cora, stop looking. "You dated that tool?" He asks me incredulously.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I thought you were gonna stay away from him."

"I was. I still am," I clarify and look up at him curiously at his almost defensive tone. "Why do you care so much?"

Pogue hesitates, but our eye contact doesn't break. "I just don't want to see you hurt by him."

My stomach flutters. Oh, jesus. Not now. Stop it. "Well...thanks," I tell him tentatively. "But don't worry about it. I can handle myself just fine."

Pogue smirks. "Yeah, I can tell."

We gaze at each other for the longest time, or at least, that's what it feels like. The suggestive glint in his eyes makes my face flush and look down, until he clears his throat, also realizing that we're standing here in a middle of a crowd like it's beach and the sun is setting behind us. I laugh softly to diffuse the awkwardness and shake my head at Reid's antics as he tries to swindle a round with an unsuspecting nonparticipant at the foosball table. They're certainly making their rounds around the place, pocketing money like the rent is about to go up. It's like hanging out with the cast of Jackass, except I don't feel inclined to risk my own life. Truth be told, it's kind of nice to be around. My usual group of Spenser friends are great, everything a adolescence girl can ask for. But it's always nice to test the waters and see what it's like on the other side. So many girls would consider these guys wild and dangerous; personally, I'd aim for more reckless and juvenile, but fair enough.

But their company is risky. Given that they're basically death on legs and I hold my very human life in some regard, a magical friendship is questionable, if it's even on that level yet. More like acquaintances that defy laws of gravity. Sometimes I wonder if they're being straight up with me about the whole disappearing Hummer act. But then I remember their blackened eyes and fuzzy feeling of my body as Pogue touched me...and I know it was real. Everything was. Their intentions don't seem ill, though, like they use their power to score a free pack of beer or to take advantage of that poor girl crying in the corner because her date left her for shorter walking mini skirt. It's kind of exciting.

"Garwin!" A male voice pipes from the pool table. It's Aaron Abbot, holding up a twenty dollar bill.

"That's us," Reid announces and taps Tyler's arm. "Excuse us, ladies." Guess it's back to scamming some poor slack jaws out of their hard earned cash.

"Your turn," Caleb tells me, moving a space down the table so I can join his team. That leaves Pogue by himself.

"You know, I'll probably end up making us lose, right?" I say to Caleb, grasping the warm handles where his hands were.

Caleb smiles. "It's alright. You're a girl."

I smack his arm. "Shut up!" He laughs as Pogue smirks at me. My face grows hot like someone's pressing burning pans to both cheeks. He makes me so nervous and disoriented. I'll botch this round for sure. "Wait," I blurt, realizing our uneven number. "We need one more player." My vision skims every eligible head, pausing on one certain brunette chatting up Kate. "Chase!" I call and wave him over when he looks my way.

He grins from ear to ear once he sees our activity and bounds forward. "You rang?"

"We need one more player."

"Don't mind if I do," he replies with a smirk and worms his way next to Pogue, who shoots him a very distasteful glare.

We play for a bit, but this time it feels a little more competitive now that there's a player that isn't a member of Spenser's very own Color Me Badd. The tension between Chase and Pogue has definitely reached new heights than before and I'm pretty sure more than just the baby faced hunk cozying up to Kate. But the reason for it, I have no clue. Do boys even need a reason to hate each other anyways? I mean, if girls can practically claw each other to pieces over physical appearance, who knows what the opposite sex can do. But surprisingly the boys diverge into talk about swimming, a hobby they all share in common it seems. And by the sound of it, Pogue and Caleb are very territorial over their reputation. Can't have some fresh meat coming in jacking their swag. No way.

After a few minutes, Pogue taps an unaware Caleb on the shoulder, glancing at Sarah, who slowly stalks toward us. Or more like toward the man candy in the wife beater. She looks like a lioness hunting through the jungle, ready to feast on fresh prey.  _I Love Rock and Roll_  by Joan Jett plays loudly in the foreground. Sheesh. I hate this jam. It sounds like a twelve year old wrote it in the quad during lunch time. Sarah seductively takes Caleb's arm and tows him to the dance floor. It's about time she took the initiative and chased the meat. Sometimes when things aren't done right, you gotta do it yourself. I laugh when they begin to dance awesomely bad. You'd think Gumby was giving them free lessons.

"You wanna dance?" Chase suggests over the music.

I scratch my temple. My moves are not the epitome of contemporary beauty. "Um..."

Chase lifts his palms and holds them close to his chest. His expression is innocent. "Keeping my hands here at all times."

I giggle. "Well, okay." He seems harmless. But if he tries to cop a feel, I'm swinging my leg back like pendulum and socking him square in the nuts.

Chase's eyes flit up to Pogue behind me and his smirk widens for reasons unbeknownst. Ah, whatever. I give up trying to understand the male mind. Though before we have the chance to actually horrify everyone with our dance talents, or lack thereof, a loud crash emits from the pool table, catching everybody's attention. Reid and Aaron are apparently in a tizzy, pushing each other around over a sham gone wrong. They storm outside, leaving the rest of us shocked at their semi-violent display. Pogue and Caleb are hot on their heels, snapping into action to tame their friends. Magical teenaged boys gone wild.

I hand the two their coats.

"You guys need help?" Chase asks.

"No, man. Just stay with the girls," Pogue rebuffs and follows Caleb out the back door. Well, this is sufficiently awkward. What now?

I stand around, glancing over my shoulders at the stagnant dancers. The jukebox tune suddenly screeches to a halt, leaving the bar with an odd disquieting silence. It's weird seeing a pub inactive and not... well, crazy. It almost feels like a civilized restaurant. My gaze lingers on the backdoor where the boys stomped out of. The inner mischief in me wants to creep out there and listen in on their showdown with Aaron, but given their astounding display of abilities, they'll probably hear my footsteps. No spying tonight.

Kate sits alone at the table, so I decide to keep her company and to scare away the lowlifes trying to score her number. She smiles at me as I plop down next her.

"What happened over there? Where did the boys go?" Kate asks.

"Oh, Aaron was messing with Reid. Guess they took him to the back to teach him a lesson," I reply.

Kate rolls her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "Ugh, boys."

I laugh and take a sip of soda, relaxing as the caffeine pulses through my veins. Just what I need. A liquid chill pill.

Kate bites into a french fry from Pogue's untouched basket of food. "I need to find you a guy."

I almost choke on my soft drink. "What?"

"Seriously, you need to find someone. I know it's been awhile since Cole, but don't let him hold you back from dating again."

"Hey, I'm happy flying solo," I defend.

Kate cocks her head at me. "Yeah, but how would you feel once we go on group dates?"

"Group dates?"

"Yeah, me and Pogue...Caleb and Sarah."

"Oh," I mumble and steal a fry from the tray. They're still warm. "So, I'll be fifth wheel. No big deal."

Kate rolls her eyes. "You just need to find the right guy. Watch, one of these days he's gonna come walking right through that door." She points toward the backdoor, just as Pogue slinks in a few paces behind Caleb and Sarah.

Of freakin' course. Fantastic timing. I force laughter and slurp a huge mouthful of Pepsi as Pogue comes back to our table, holding it my mouth for five seconds before swallowing stiffly. He leans down to peck Kate's lips, glancing at me quickly when he pulls away. I can't look him in the eye. It's too uncomfortable. Being around them while they act all loving leaves a sickening feeling in my gut. God, I have it bad. And all for a guy I don't even know that well. Who's dating my best friend. Some combination, huh? Caleb and Sarah leave separately, holding hands and look weirdly keyed up despite the near catastrophic events that could have went down between a couple of hyper active boys. Magical prowess must increase the libido too.

Their departure leaves me in the company of Kate and Pogue, a situation I do not want. I manage to make it through ten minutes of their coupling, Kate's occasional pet names for him, until I fake the 'whole strict parental rules' excuse, which isn't an entire lie. My curfew isn't up until eleven, but why waste two hours with my best friend and her heavenly beautiful boyfriend when I can waste away the last years of my high school tenure in my room replaying sad Mariah Carey songs while eating fruit roll ups? Sounds like a solid plan to me. I kiss Kate on the cheek and hug her goodbye, seeing Pogue smirk a little at me as we embrace. My heart flips and I let go a little too early, almost tripping over one of the legs of the chair. Kate bids a goodnight and promises to call me in the morning before school starts tomorrow. I almost forgot tonight is Sunday. That'll be hell.

Maybe I can convince Dad to write a doctor's note. He has the doctrine anyways. For Orthodontia, but hey it still counts, right? A coward's move, but I don't know what else to do. It feels like my crush on Pogue is painted all over my face for all to see. How can I be around him one more day without some kind of mental collapse? And Kate ever found out... it's scary to imagine. I've seen her upset before, plenty of time, and she vents her anger her sadness through tears. Lots of that. The idea of me doing that to her is painful. I value her friendship way too much to attempt anything to put it in jeopardy. She's always been there for me. But at the same time, lying to her and dodging her presence in hopes of avoiding her boyfriend doesn't seem fair either.

And the Worst Friend award goes to...

Me.

000

When I arrive back home, the shower calls to me first and foremost. The tavern left an icky thick residue in my hair, like clumps of dirty clay. Pantene Pro V probably won't get the foul odor out for weeks. Good thing I didn't use the bathrooms. Who knows what diseases I might have contracted. The house is dark when I shut the door and set the alarm. No Dad reading the paper by the fireplace or Mom scribbling away on her stationery. They're tucked away blissfully in bed, which works out for me since I'm half a minute past curfew. The air conditioning is a few degrees lower than comfort, so I slip on Spencer's Official Basketball Team sweater that Cole still has yet to ask for back. Ah, well. He may not be dating materiel anymore, who says I can't make use of of his belongings? I run the shower head and take out some fresh clean pajamas from the drawer, humming to the radio as I go.

After washing up and dressing for bed, I wiggle under the covers, wet hair fanning out on the pillow. A muted yawn seeps past my mouth as I go over the day in my head. The good, the bad, and the weird. The boys are sure interesting to be around. Yet mildly terrifying at the same time. They all have different traits that make me laugh and smile. Pogue's presence alone can send my heart aching to the point of cardiac arrest. It's definitely a game breaker standing close to him. But avoiding him will mean avoiding Kate which will be damn near impossible. She's the closest I've ever had to a sister. Which is more logical? Sparing a best friend's feelings, even if it means pushing them away or sticking it out and act like nothing's wrong, which could potentially spoil my secret crush?

Life sure has a knack for screwing me over.

My cell phone dings with a message indicator.

 **Kate** (Mobile)  
_Shopping 2morrow after school?_

I smile and type a reply. Hopefully the invitation doesn't extend to the boyfriend. If he even likes that sort of stuff.

 **Cora** (Mobile)  
_Definitely! See u_   _then_   _:)_

Rolling on my side, I stretch an arm out to flick off the lamp, then burrow deeper into the sheets. Sleep overcomes me quickly, easily. It's such a reliever to end the night in relaxation and not with manifestations of rotting corpses or open portals looking to swallow me whole. And with a pending Algebra test coming up in the week, I'm gonna need all the sleep I can get. Moonlight casts long thin lines over my bed from the blinds as the hours drone by. I lay there peacefully for the most part, deep in slumber, then roll over on my side after a while when the mattress becomes too springy. The fan spinning above spurs crazily for a moment, like it's about to fly off and the blades send sharp cuts through the wind it makes. And for a second, I think I hear my name being whispered through it. Soft and beckoning.

My eyelids flutter open, hearing the weird noise and I hurriedly yank on the bedside lamp. Light floods the room, but nothing is how it shouldn't be. I rub my temple and glance around warily, swearing that I heard something shifty. Maybe it's just the ventilation acting wonky. Or the effect the boys have on my brain again. God damn their appeal. Damn it all to hell. I sigh and lean across the bed to turn off the lamp again, but a paralyzing sensation overcomes my body, starting from the ankles, working all the way up. Tiny black dots freckle my vision and everything in sight grow blurry. Colors appear grey, then sephia, before blackening out completely.

No...

No, no, no.

It's happening again.

My lips part, but no noise escapes. Images flash behind my retinas. Spiders...so many spiders. Crawling everywhere, in and out through soil and flesh. I see faces. Familiar faces. Kate and Sarah. The latter is screaming in pure terror and I see it all in my head. Pressure resides at my temple, bursting against the bone plate in my forehead. Shear white pain.

I scream and the light goes out.

0000

I wake up some time later, lying face down in my cream colored carpet, tiny clumps of dust bunnies sticking to my lips and hair. All of the lights returned back on and the ceiling fans hums quietly above as if nothing happened. The alarm clock blinks two in the morning in flashing red block letters. Two hours have passed and everything is hauntingly quiet. Normal. I groan, my body sore from being sprawled on the scratchy carpet for so long and sit back on my heels, running a hand through my languid hair. Confusion morphs in my chest as I gaze around the room, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Everything is in it's perfect place. I don't get it. Did I imagine all of that? Did I hallucinate those vivid pictures in my head? I couldn't have. It felt so real. And it  _hurt_. It couldn't have been the effects of too much caffeine or not enough vitamins, maybe.

I rise wobbly to my feet and sit gingerly at the edge of my bed, hearing owls softly hooing outside the window. The images still burn fresh in my brain; insects of all kind slithering over bare skin and out places of the human body no spider should enter. And those face. I can't remember what they look like, but I know they were there. They're someone I know. Everything just feels like it's going downhill and there's nothing to do to bring it up again. These dreams have me at a loss and dread going to sleep at night, in fear of what I'll end up seeing. But they mean something. They're speaking to me, in it's own way. I know it does. It just have to find out why. The sudden vibration of my cell on the nightstand makes me jump. The screen lights up, alerts displaying that I've missed over thirty calls and text messages over the past few hours.

It buzzes for a moment, before I shakily answer it and bring it up to my ear.

"Cora," Caleb's deep, concerned voice acknowledges. "I've been trying to get a hold of you-"

"It happened again," I whisper, bringing my knees to my chest.

"I know," he says grimly. "We heard it. What did you see?"

"Spiders... lots of spiders. And..." I squeeze my eyes shut, free hand coming up to clutch the side of my head as I try to recall the faces in the vision. But they're all blurry and out of focus. They won't come into clarity. But I know they were there... more than two people. "Faces... two faces. But I can't see them. I can't remember who they are." The other line goes silent for a moment, but Caleb's heavy breathing still resounds through the line, lost in thought. If he doesn't have a clue what this is, how can I? "Caleb... what's going on? Why is this happening to me?"

Caleb inhales sharply. "I don't know. But I promise, I'm gonna find out." He pauses. "Are you hurt?"

"No. My head hurts a little, though," I reply, craning my stiff neck from left to right.

"Stay there. We'll come and get you."

I blanch at his usage of plurals.  _We._ Nope. My room is not fit to hold four magic wielding boys who have no consideration for collateral damage. Also, not when my parents are home, within ear shot. "No, no, you can't!" I exclaim, cringing when I realize the high volume of my voice. I take a deep breathe and tone it down. "Not while my parents are here. I'll be okay for the night. I'll talk to you at school."

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Caleb asks.

"Yeah," my voice comes our hoarsely, unsure. I swallow thickly and it strengthens a little. "Yeah. I'm sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	4. So Real, These Voices In My Head

**I**  spend the first two hours of the morning sitting on a cold examination bed of the doctor's office, wearing one of those uncomfortable gowns that lace up the sides. They performed a physical check-up, cat scan, and even used the little flash light trick where they shine the bulb in your face and slide their forefinger from left to right. As if that does any good. Since the second chaotic screaming episode last night, I faked nausea and severe abdominal pains in front of my parents to let me skip early morning classes for a medical visit. They weren't too happy that I'd be absent for the first half of school, but it's not like I'm playing hooky just to go shopping or something. And at least the doctor's note will be real.

There just has to be some logical reason on what's going on with these night terrors. But explaining my slightly psychotic breakdowns to the nurses wasn't exactly a plausible option without them looking at me like my head just turned all the way around like the girl from The Exorcist. Watering it down to 'headache inducing nightmares' was as close as I could describe it. They didn't seem too confused on why I would book an appointment for that reason. Maybe I'm not the only one who's experienced this in Ipswich. I just can't let this go on any further. It feels like I'm losing my mind. The stress of Senior year is said to cause some mild cases of mental breakdowns, but this is just too extreme. I don't want to walk off the graduation podium with a lobotomy bill on my hands.

After about fifteen extra minutes of waiting and flipping through a health magazine, the doctor finally waltz back in. He's tall, middle aged, with salt and pepper facial hair. Not bad looking for an older dude. He must have made a lot of panties drop in his high school days.

"Alright, Miss St. James," he adjusts the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I hold my breathe, anticipating terrible news. Something that will make me regret spending the last two weekends camping out in the living room watching Smallville when I should have been studying or at least managing a consistent social life. "We've gotten your test results back and there appears to be nothing wrong with you."

Silence engulfs the room for a moment. I blink quickly. "Wait, what?"

The Doc skims over a chart. "Yes, all your vital signs are reading as normal. I can't say there's an issue with you  _physically_. Have you been diagnosed with a mental disorder in the past? Such as schizophrenia, acute bipolar- "

I shake my head. "No. Nothing like that."

He crosses something off his clipboard. "Are you sexually active?"

In my dreams. Well, actually there was that one time in the back of Dylan Reeves pickup truck during Sophomore year for his annual Halloween party, but that barely counts. He only used his hands. "Nope. Why is that important?"

The Doc taps his pen against the paper. "It could have... emotional and mental impact, depending on the nature of the relationship," he said, sounding like a politician that forgot his cue cards. He's clearly running out of ideas and making it up as he goes. Some A+ clinic this is supposed to be. He might as well ask what brand of orange juice I drink for breakfast. Maybe pulp is the root of my problems.

"Then I'm sorry, Miss. St. James, but I'm afraid I can't help you."

"But I don't understand," I say helplessly, staring at my palms. "Why is this happening to me?"

"If I may say, it appears that the source of your nightmares are coming from up here." The Doc taps his temple.

"Then why do they hurt?"

"Perhaps the pain you feel is actually a cry for help from your subconscious." He pauses. "Are you sure you don't want to bring your mother in here?"

"No!" I say a little too quickly and slid off the medical bed. "No, it's fine. I can't stay much longer anyways. I'm late for school. Thanks for the help."

"Come back if you have any questions."

He leaves promptly so I can change back into my school uniform. It's a bit wrinkled around the collar and hem from being stuffed in my backpack, but it's better than forgetting to bring them all together. It's almost ten in the morning now. I hope I didn't miss any important tests or information on finals. When I'm dressed again, I walk out past the reception table and into the waiting room where a bunch of older women sit with their toddlers. Mom waits in a secluded corner, scribbling something down in her monthly planner. She insisted that she come along, despite my claims that I was perfectly a capable of driving myself in my own car. I guess she's suspicious since the whole broken mirror incident. At least now, I really have nothing to hide. The Doctor knows absolutely zilch. She lifts her head when I come up, smiles and asks me how it went. The glint in her eyes is like sharp pointed steel, as if she's reading my body language like a lie detector. I stall for a second, before messily brushing the cramps off as period irregularity. She appears suspicious that the Doctor didn't give me some type of prescription pills to put them back on track again or lesson the discomfort, but I tell her that I didn't want them. I always have trouble swallowing whole pills anyways. My gag reflex is too big.

But she doesn't probe for anymore answers and we head out to the car. Her Audi was left in the garage at home since there was really no point in taking two cars for the same place. I drive her to work, while she writes something down in one of her handheld notebooks. She keeps so many of them in her bag, I have no idea what they're used for. The car is more or less quiet as we stop at an intersection. Normally the radio is playing on medium, but Mom never likes driving with it on. Something about it being a road distraction and a "driving hazard." She never says anything about pulling forty in a thirty miles per hour zone. I guess it's one of those Mom things when they think 'it's okay for me to do it, but not you.' When we cruise up in front of her work building, she pecks my cheek and reminds me to take the chicken out of the freezer when I come home from school. She comes home pretty late on Mondays, but she's perfected the art in whipping up a last minute dinner. Last time I forgot and nearly had my head on a platter.

I don't know what it is with parents, but they always love to rule by fear.

Spenser looks eerily haunted and cursed when I pull up to the entrance gates. The front lawn is rained with freshly fallen leaves, a mix of pale yellow and cherry red and mist forms a thick bank over the top of the building. It's pretty, in a creepy Stephen King way. And people wonder why I choose not to live in the dorms. Sighing, I retrieve my backpack from the passenger seat, lock my car, then skip up to the front steps. Most students are already in class, but a few loiter in the main hall. Boards stapled with flyers and announcements about the upcoming Fall festival adorn an entire wall near Provost Higgin's office. It's a yearly tradition that's anticipated and planned for since the beginning of summer. It's a bring-a-date sort of dance, but since I broke things off with Cole, I guess I'll be flying solo. No big deal. Who says you need a guy to have fun? I hurry down the hall toward Economics, following the echo of the teacher's mundane lecture.

"Ah, Ms. St. James," the teacher says when I amble inside, doctor's note in hand. "I've been expecting you." I guess the office told him that I'd be tardy. He wags his fingers forward for the slip and I hand it to him, watching him briefly skim it over. Then he nods. "Take your seat."

I close the front flap to my bag and scamper up the aisle to my assigned seat where Kate also sits. "Hey," she whispers when I plop down and get comfortable. "Where were you?"

"I was at the doctor."

Her brows crinkle in concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was just a check up. I'm fine."

It feels so wrong keeping this from her. Knowing Kate, she'd probably freak out if she ever finds that her boyfriend and all of his friends posses magic. And the fact that I see things in my head. I don't want her to look at me differently, like a crazy person. She's usually very understanding, but has kind of a naive outlook on the world. Kind of like how I used to be before I got into than damn Hummer. I guess that's why we're so close. Our minds are similar in that way. Our friendship is one more thing I don't want to get ruined by whatever is going on with me. She lets me borrow her notes to catch up on what I missed out on as the teacher continues his lesson. We share a lot of classes together, except two or three, so we're practically each other's permanent study buddy.

I slide them over to her once I'm done, then turn back to the teacher's chalkboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar chiseled jaw line that bears a striking resemblance to Pogue. Sweet Jesus. I forgot that he's also in this class. What do I do? Okay, be cool. Just look straight ahead. Appear catatonic. I anxiously drum my short fingernails on top of the table, glancing up at the clock for the second I'd be free to escape before Pogue can come over and gush with his girlfriend. His presence is so strong even when we're not directly facing each other. Maybe I should have faked a brain hemorrhage instead and stayed at the clinic. The teacher babbles on about his presentation, chalk stick screeching against the board like dry paint. This is always the class I have no trouble slipping in a few minutes worth of sleep. With our seats aimed toward the higher rows, no one really notices a head or two going missing.

When the bell rings, I practically thrust all my books in my backpack, zip it up, then stand up to follow the rising crowd out the door after promising to meet up with Kate in English, our other shared class. We have separate time schedules for the next hour. She'll be in Trigonometry while I have Chemistry and Calculus. Then right after English is volleyball practice. The only chance for a break I'll have is lunch time. At least they're serving those little Jello cups today. The next couple of classes pass slowly. The social circle within Spencer isn't what you'd expect from a private school. You get the spoiled, entitled little twits like Kira who think they deserve everything because the size of their trust fund. Although, in some people's mind, every kid with a family that has more money than the middle class is a stuck-up disease. And for cases like Kira, I guess that's right. But aside from girls like her, the popular scene in school isn't like what's showed in Tv. They don't black sheep anyone that's not on their "level." However, they are highly protective of their territory. Like the girl's tennis team, or the swimmers.

I honestly don't care much either way. If you pull your weight in a group project, you're not a total asshole to me.

After Chemistry and Calculus ends, the halls flood with Senior students on their way to English. It's probably one of the toughest classes to get an  **A**  in. I guess it doesn't help that the teacher is a stickler and acts like he's James Joyce reincarnated to carry on his legacy of Modernism. His tests are the kind that will make you blank out even on the simplest things. That's why I've never been too much of a fan of this class. At least in Algebra, they don't mark your work as incomplete for the tiniest mistake. That's the only class I've managed to get an  **A**  in. The rest are a solid  **B+**. I can't complain too much on that. I'm just lucky enough to make into a school like this. The corridor is cramped as I float my way toward the classroom's open door, seeing students heading for their claimed seats. Kate and Sarah are sitting together and wave at me when I walk up to my assigned table two rows below them. I smile and wave back, heart skipping when I realize that the boys are also here. Reid and Tyler are sitting on the higher aisles; Caleb and Pogue just a space below Kate and Sarah, and judging from the way Reid is burning holes though Caleb's back with his glare, those two are having marriage issues.

As I set my backpack between my feet, Pogue glances over and smirks at me a little, lips just barely twitching up. God, why is it so appealing when boys do that? It's not even a smile, yet it still manages to get my heart racing. Perfect for the beginning of class. I need a cold glass of water.

"Good morning," the teacher greets us, setting down his briefcase. "Mr. Danvers, Provost Higgins requests the pleasure of your company after class," he tells Caleb directly. Higgins is pretty much the Godfather around here. He hardly ever calls anyone to his office, unless is extremely important. I wonder what it's about. "Now, we're going to study four American contemporary writers of fiction." The Teacher begins to write names on the board.

"Yeah, Dreamcatcher was the shit!" Reid says at the last author added and the whole class bursts into laughter. I roll my eyes. He's such a loudmouth.

"Thank you, Mr. Garwin, but no. My choice is The Shining."

Reid shoots him a mocking expression.

I shake my head a little and smile, clicking the top of my mechanical pencil as the teacher continues on. By the end of the class, we're assigned to read a chapter in one of each author's acclaimed novels for tonight's homework. Simple enough. That saves a lot of time to finish other work that's still not due for a few days. After the bell rings, Kate and I make our way to the girl's locker room to change for volleyball practice. It's a relatively popular sport here at Spenser and tournaments are held about once a year, but not nearly as much as the boys' swim team. That's considered the Olympics around here and is taken just as seriously. Swim Meets are always the source of hype. I never went to a race myself, but Kate has been to plenty of Pogue's, or so she says. Seeing a bunch of barely dressed boys must to a good excuse to attend every one. I've only caught glimpses of the boys' locker room from the door swinging open and shut and the trunks they wear are anything but tasteful. God bless whoever designed them. They have my full appreciation.

My hand-eye coordination is fairly average, so for safe measures, I take up the middle row during volleyball so I don't accidentally thump someone in the head with the ball or vice versa. Kate is just in front of me, pony tail swishing with each hit of the ball. Practice is only an hour, just in time for lunch. We break for the locker room when the bell rings out in the hall, feet sore from continuous jumping and moving, towels moist around our necks. The showers only take a few minutes to steam, so cleaning up is quick and easy with our own little lockers. The hole where Aaron cut into to tape his infamous video is cemented up and for extra measure, a thick slab of duct tape is pressed over it. The girls that were caught on camera never smile the same way anymore. Good thing Kate and I were sick with a cold that day. Now no boy is even allowed two feet near the girls' locker room door.

After we're dressed and refreshed, Kate and I skip down the halls and look for Sarah for lunch. The boys are supposedly going to save us a spot in their specially reserved table. Apparently not too many outsiders are invited. And given what I know about them, I can see why. Maybe their secret is harder to keep under wraps than it looks. We find Sarah in the library, her blonde head sitting alone at a table with a stack of books around her.

Kate pops up on her left side, making her jump a little. "What is that?" Kate asks.

"Um...," Sarah hesitates. "Caleb's family history."

"Didn't he tell you about it?" I say, leaning over her right and hope that I don't sound too obvious. Like one of those people who want others to know they know something they don't.

Sarah shakes her head. "No, he didn't. Not a lot of it." She pauses. "Did you guys know that the witchcraft thing actually started here in Ipswich?"

Kate thinks. "Every time I ask Pogue about it, he just tells me it's all nonsense." She leans closer as Sarah turns a new page. The text is thick with different illustrations on every page, some of old symbols or creatures associated with the witchcraft. Some are also drawings of what Ipswich used to look like back when the trials started. Old colonies and courthouses. A lot of the pages include the boys' surnames.

"Hey, Cora, look," Sarah points to a last name printed on the page. "Isn't that your family? St. James."

We all look closer. Her pointer finger hovers just above Nathaniel St. James on the page. There is no picture of him, but from what is written in the chapter, he was a close acquaintance of the five families. Prosecutors were supposed to bring him in for questioning the day of the trials, but his home was found empty and none of the family members were ever tracked down. They seemingly disappeared from town. No... those can't be my ancestors. Mom said that we originally settled in from up North. Where exactly? I'm... not sure. But that can't be my family. I would have known if my ancestors were tied to the Salem Witches. Right?

"You never told me your family was a part of the Witch Trials!" Kate exclaims, looking intrigued.

"I'm not," I answer doubtlessly. "I mean, my parents would have told me. It's probably just another family. I don't even recognize those names."

Kate raises her eyebrows. "How many other people do you know in town with your last name?"

I don't respond and just rub my temple, a confused shamble. My gaze skims over the next few pages, but nothing more is revealed about Nathaniel, or at least, not in this chapter. After a while, Sarah closes the book and slings her book bag over her shoulder, standing up. She puts the book back in its proper place on one of the tall shelves. I don't know why I haven't seen that book that before. I've seen almost every commonly read title, but that one feels completely foreign to me. And tempting to explore further.

"Come on guys, let's go meet the boys," Kate declares once Sarah rejoins us.

"Great!" Sarah smiles and we head for the cafeteria. I walk a pace or two behind them out the door, casting a long glance behind me at the Pagan book that waits on it's shelf, a weird feeling pinching my stomach. No... it's probably nothing.

Those names have nothing to do with my family.

The boys wait for us at their table, sitting around in a semi circle when we come up with our stock of surprisingly not so bad school lunches. I settle for a packet of seedless grapes, a mini carton of milk, bottled water, and french fries. Kate pecks Pogue on the cheek and slides in next to him. The left side is occupied by Caleb and Sarah; Tyler sits besides Pogue's right with Reid taking up the head of the table, standing with one foot propped up against the metal rod underneath. His tie is loose, both arms thrown casually over his bent knee. He looks more interested in the group of girls sitting behind us more than anything else. The only space open is the seat beside Caleb and Sarah, directly facing Kate and her boyfriend.

Alright, time to grow some balls, I tell myself. Or maybe not. They're weak and sensitive. Not exactly a model metaphor. I take the free spot, tucking my bag between my ankles. Pogue smirks at me from across the table, friendly and casual. Although his eyes look darker today. More smoldering. It must be the cloudy weather.

"Did you guys hear about Mr. Nelson?" Kate chimes, picking up her spoon.

"The French teacher?" Sarah inquires.

Kate nods. "Yeah, I heard in Trig that he violated his parole."

"What for?"

"I guess he harassed a student a couple of years ago. A freshman from the boys' soccer team."

I almost choke on my milk. So that's why the teacher's lounge has been said to be the biggest gossip spot since study hall. Despicable. Some adults have no merit these days.

"I told you he was a fuckin' chicken hawk," Reid comments.

"You learn that from experience?" Pogue ripostes, grinning when the blonde boy flips him off. I chuckle and munch from my selective tray, stuffing a couple grapes in my mouth. Despite all the startling encounters and paranoia since meeting them, the guys are nice to be around. They know when to make me laugh and oddly enough, when to take things seriously. They carry themselves with an air of protection. I can't help but feel a little guarded around them. Although, their reputation precedes them. I know whatever is happening to me won't just quit. If anything, it's going to get worse. A lot worse.

"Mind if I join in?" A voice pipes in from behind us. It's Chase.

"No, man," Caleb says, nodding at the only available space beside me. "Go ahead."

Chase smiles and drops onto the bench, our shoulders bumping together. The others treat him nicely, or normally I guess I should say. Caleb is a more at ease with his lady around, but the same can't be said for Pogue. He glares subtly at the Collins kid the second he stepped within our tables perimeter. He's not oblivious. He sees the looks Chase gives Kate and how well they get along. I guess I wouldn't be so receptive of him either if I were him.

"So," Chase begins brightly. "Is everyone going to that Fall Fest dance?"

"Yeah," Caleb replies, glancing down at Sarah as she eats. His full lips twitch into a tiny smile. "I think we are." So romantic.

"Pogue and I go every year," Kate explains, touching her boyfriend's big hand and looks lovingly up at him. He smiles, but it looks distracted, like he's half focused on something else.

"I haven't asked anyone yet," Tyler says, looking a little bummed.

Reid snorts. "You sound like such a girl."

"Dude, shut up."

"You can always take Reid," I suggest. "He's high maintenance enough."

Tyler stifles a laugh while his blonde friend rolls his eyes. I chuck a grape at him, aiming for his chest, but he easily catches it in his hand and pops it in his mouth. Then he winks. He's such a sleaze.

"Looks like I'll be a free man," Chase laments, then smoothly hooks his arm around my shoulders, shaking them gently with his forearm. My side presses against his, fit and toned. He smells pretty good, too. Like Nautica Blue. Most swimmers reek of chlorine. "Unless you wouldn't mind being my date?" He pitches, hopeful.

I pause, unable to tell if he's joking or not. "I'll think about it."

"Hey, come on, I'm not that bad of a dancer," Chase defends himself.

"It's not the dance moves I'm worried about." I playfully nudge my shoulder into his chest so his arm falls from me. Don't want him picking up hints that aren't there. But he doesn't take it personally and just chuckles. The french fries on the tray are still hot with an individual packet of ketchup included, so he steals one, making me thump him on the arm.

This table is a lot different from the one I usually sit at. It's lively, filled with funny stories and slightly immature jokes. The other is pure gossip and complaints about the school hasn't had a uniform change in over fifteen years. It almost makes me forget that they wield magic. Almost. After a while of talking, I glance up across from me and find Pogue nearly burning holes through Chase by the harshness of his glare. It's all in the eyes; they're narrowed alarmingly and there's a tightness in his jaw that wasn't there before. His left fist is clenched to the point where tendons are noticeably standing out, held at an angle at the underside of his jaw, like he's waiting for a perfect opportunity to drive it through a wall. Or through Chase.

I glance up at the Collins kid and find him munching merrily on the remaining grapes I gave him. He doesn't seem to notice Pogue's two-fisted glowers. Or maybe he does and just doesn't care.

Boys are strange creatures.

0000

The town of Ipswich is more interesting during the after hours. Towns people come out to have a good time and enjoy the fall breeze, restaurants and shops deck their surroundings in Halloween themed decorations and all the local coffee shops start selling their pumpkin spice lattes. Kate and I comb the single mall in town and all the little boutiques where we find a lot of our dresses at. She drove us around in her Honda in our last shopping trip, so it's my turn to play chauffeur. We invited Sarah along with us, but she had a hot date with her spell weaving man candy. More power to her, I guess. My sum of babysitting money that I saved up over the years is pretty solid and the business is still put into practice whenever I have a boring free weekend, so it was safe to come back with a shopping bag or two without getting an ear full from Mom or Dad about proper money management. They should speak for themselves. They don't hear a word from me when they spend over a hundred grand on a coffee maker every year. I'm sure putting a brace on people's grills and managing a shoe store is tough work, but how much espresso can two adults need before six in the morning?

Some people might get bored with routine, but for me, it's kind of comforting. Especially if it's with somebody close to me. Kate and I don't go shopping everyday, but it's something we've bonded over since we were kids. Except now it's for clothes instead of dolls. Whether it's in her car or mine, she always has to bring her Pussycat Dolls CD and blare it to absolute ear splitting volume with both windows rolled down. People walking down the street stare at us when we drive by as if we just busted out of an asylum. Still, it's fun to hear her sing along to every word and throw her hands up over the open sun roof. When we stop at a red light, Kate leans her head back against the cushion and looks at me with a small smile.

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo," she says.

I laugh. "Seriously? Where at? Pogue's name down below?" I sweep my eyes beneath her belt and try not to cringe. There's no amount of money anybody can pay me to get a tattoo in a sensitive place. Or something pierced that's not on my ears.

Kate giggles and playfully slaps my arm. "Oh, shut up!" The light flashes green and I step on the gas. "Actually, I was thinking somewhere on my back."

"What of?"

"I don't know yet. Do you think we can stop by the tattoo shop?"

"Sure."

The tattoo parlor just happens to be a few blocks down from Nicky's, so the drive there isn't very far. Though for some reason the place is a common hangout for the younger crowd. Even if they don't get anything pierced or inked, there's a group of high schoolers standing around with a brown paper bag disguised beer can in their hand. Must be the ruggedly attractive men behind the piercing chairs. Either that or one of the tattoo artists are selling them weed. I find an empty space in the parking lot and cut the engine. Kate is practically bouncing with delight, hopping out of the car with a big smile. We had just spent a good sum of our cash this evening on boutiques. I have no idea how she'll be able to afford a tattoo. Unless her dad lent her his credit card. It smells like burning cedar wood and jasmine inside. Kate greets a bearded guy at the counter and engages him in small talk as I wander toward the glass cases of ear jewelry.

The place is more wide than it is long with very low lighting, almost like a lounge. An angry dude practically screams his feelings above through the speakers, so loud you can see and feel the vibration. It's like something you'd expect to hear at a human sacrifice ceremony or something. I skim the displays of belly button rings, oblivious to the people waltzing in and out.

"Cora?" A bass voice says from the burgundy curtain.

I turn my head see to Pogue standing by one of the back tattoo rooms. His leather jacket is on and he wears a simple, but clingy black v-neck shirt underneath it. It outlines the top of his pectoral muscles. Oh geez. "Oh, hey, Pogue. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Yeah, I came to see a friend of mine," he says, walking closer. His eyes flit over the wall of tattoo stencils and he quirks an eyebrow. "Never figured you for ink."

"I'm not," I respond. "Tattoos aren't really my thing."

"Why not? Afraid of the needle?" He asks, staring at me expectantly when I don't say anything. Amusement flickers in his dark eyes when he realizes what my silence means. He laughs, deep and booming, coming from the very depth of his chest and it's so strong that it shakes his broad shoulders a bit. "Oh, you are..."

"Hey, don't laugh at me," I say, wanting to sound irritated, but his chuckles are the kind that make your inner thighs burst into flames.

"I didn't expect that from a girl who likes bikes."

I giggle, glancing down at my shoes then back up at him. "Well... you don't know everything about me, Mr. Parry."

"No," he agrees lowly. "Guess I don't." His eyes suddenly go cloudy as our gazes lock. The pale haze of his green retinas appear almost black under the light. I don't know why this happens every time we look at each other like this, like time and gravity has put us in a choke hold. It raises goosebumps on my skin and the taut muscles in Pogue's chest puff out. He clears his throat, seemingly catching himself in another one of our wacky trance-like moments. "Cora-"

"Hey, baby!" Kate's voice breaks from the front counter. She rushes toward her boyfriend and wraps both arms around his neck. I look away when she kisses him, a knot thick as a brick morphing in my gut. Their lips pop when they pull away. "Cora and I were gonna head over to White Farms for some frozen yogurt after this," Kate tells him. "Do you want to come?"

"Nah, I can't. Got a family thing back home."

"Oh, okay. Maybe next time?"

"Yeah," he pecks her lips, hands firm on her hips. "Next time."

She smiles and kisses him hard on the mouth, making me wish that someone would dump a bucket of water on me so I can melt into thin air. It's okay, it's fine. Just play it cool. Vanilla Ice cool. I smile apprehensively when Kate turns and walks back to me, eyes bright and sparkling. Pogue stands by the curtain, both hands tucked in his jean pockets and smirks once Kate and I are side by side again. She blows him a kiss while I just awkwardly wave my goodbye, hoping I don't seem too anxious. I really need that frozen yogurt now. No amount of confectioners sugar can make up for the severity of this crush, but it's worth a try.

Boy, am I in over my head.

0000

The worst thing about not living in the school dorms is waking up an hour earlier to get ready and avoid hitting morning traffic.

At five-thirty in the morning, it's still dark outside and freezing ass cold when my alarm clock goes off. A lot of the students living in the dormitory don't wake until six-thirty or seven. Living in the same building, it doesn't take long to shower, change and grab something from the cafeteria for breakfast until the first class of the day starts. With my showers lasting about fifteen minutes, toppled with pulling on the mildly uncomfortable layered Spenser uniform and squeezing in something to eat, I definitely need more than an hour. Maybe more if I wake up particularly groggy. I've thought about moving to the dorms once or twice for a less hectic way to begin the school days, but falling asleep and waking up to Spenser five times in a row is what I imagine laying in a coffin and watching the lid nail shut above you feels like.

It's Tuesday and the east wing at Spenser is eerily quiet. The floor is commonly used for extra space storage. It's a small hall with a few rooms that lead up to a staircase to the level where all the main classes are held. A lot of pranks are pulled here during Halloween, with students unwillingly being drawn here by their friends with someone lurking around a corner to jump out at them. All of the rooms are stocked with additional experimenting tables for Biology and Chemistry, decorations for any monthly festival or event, and other trinkets that the school board took down over the years. Most students pass through here on a daily basis, such as myself. It's not too creepy when the hall lights are lit, but they go completely dark after five in the evening. I walk down the corridor in preparation for my next class, but there's still some time to kill, so I decide to make a pit stop at the only bathroom in the wing.

I set my bag and book down on the counter, relieved that I have some time to collect myself before the next period starts. The girl's bathroom cleanliness level is something to be grateful for at Spenser. It doesn't smell like the average restroom and doesn't look like you can attract a disease by touching the faucets or anything. The only real drawback is that the shower doors are frosted, making it hard to see anyone that walks in. It could be Aaron with a camcorder for all we know. I take my hair down from its ponytail, shake out the waves and smooth them out with the tiny brush I keep in my bag. Tangle free hair is a priority to me. Along with deodorant that actually does it's job and mints.

When I'm done, I put it away and zip up the tiny compartment, pausing when a gush of air blows behind me, as if someone just ran in front of blasting fan or the door flying open. I turn on my heel halfway, guardedly, expecting someone to have walked in. But there's no one here. The lights hum above in their fancy fixtures, dimming the tiniest bit. Maybe that's what I heard. God, I really need to lay off carbonated beverages. Shaking the sudden creepy feeling, I face my bag again and prepare to close it up, wanting to be early for class so I don't get stuck with the nose bleed seats. I haul the strap over my shoulder and glance up at my reflection for the last time.

Then freeze.

My hand falls to my side, backpack plummeting to the ground as the foggy glass stares back blankly. Mist is covering every inch of the surface, like fresh steam from a shower or by someone breathing heavy. Words are smudged out in the condensation. Large, but simple.

**_I KNOW_ **

The dead boy from the Dells erupts from behind the glass, various sized shards flying everywhere as his ghostly arms, grey and rotting, stretch toward me, like he's trying to snatch me up and drag me down to whatever underworld he came from. A scream, garbled and shrill, bubbles up my throat and explodes out my lips. It feels like I'm being yanked backwards by an unseen, invisible force, yet the spirit is still right in my face, sucking the life out of me. The lights flicker on and off, buzzing loudly before the bulbs overcharge with heat and break into pieces all over the floor. The back of my head smacks against something cold and rock solid, making me slide in a messy heap to the ground. My eyelids droop from the rough impact and I fight to keep them open, but consciousness is lost.

Everything goes black. It feels like infinity passes.

Then a hand touches my forearm, waking me and causing me to jump at the sudden contact.

"Whoa, hey, it's me," Pogue comforts, muscular physical a stocky fuzz. His fingers squeeze my skin in reassurance, warm and callused. "It's me."

I blink once and find his features studying mine through the blurry daze, leaf green eyes lit with alarm. "Pogue?" His name falls out like mush. "How... how did you-" I try to ask how he found me so quickly, but the ability to construct a proper sentence fails as my weak and thrashed body sags against the stall door.

"I was in the hall," he clarifies, skimming the debris of broken glass all over floor, then following the blood trail that leads to my gashed hand. "What the hell happened?" He asks. His brows furrow in concern at the sight of the cut and he holds my palm face up carefully, cautious not to touch the wound. "Shit."

"It was there.. in the mirror..." I try to explain lamely, breathing coming in short, ragged intakes.

"What was?" Pogue asks, thumb over my pounding pulse point.

I don't answer and just stare straight ahead, shaken and at a loss for words. My fingernails scrape against the tile as I ball my uninjured hand. It won't stop trembling. It feels like the dead boy is still here, wailing at me, begging for me to help him and free him from whatever enslaved him in that decaying corpse form. But I don't know how. I don't know if I can help him. Maybe all I'm meant to do is just see. Pogue holds my chin between his fingers and turns my face up to look at him. I can feel the warmth of his breath puff over my cheeks. It melts away some of the ice that has taken a hold on my senses, the disturbance of what happened really sinking into my brain. Rapid footsteps come storming down the hall, in a small group of three and they stop short of the threshold to the bathroom.

It's the Sons. They must have been on a different floor and heard it too. How else could have Pogue gotten here first?

"Whoa..." Tyler mutters, sky blue eyes glued to the clutter of glass and blood on the floor.

"Jesus," even Reid adds in quietly.

Caleb sighs and runs his hand over his face. All three of them looked like they sprinted their way over here. He steps into the room, school shoes crunching on bits of glass. "What happened?"

Pogue unfastens his striped burgundy tie, whips it out from under his collar, then wraps it around the cut in my hand, putting pressure with his palm to stop the blood flow. "She's hurt," he tells his boys as Reid and Tyler walk in, flanking both sides of Caleb like an arrow head.

"You feel that, Caleb?" Tyler says incredulously, studying the blank space where the mirror once lied.

Their leader nods stiffly. "Yeah. Yeah, I feel it." He rubs the side of his neck slowly and walks forward so he's blocking my view, then kneels down to my level. His tall shadow blankets a quarter of the room. "Cora," he begins. "Do you remember what you saw?"

I take a deep breath and adjust my position on the ground, sitting up so my shoulders are more aligned and put together. Gravity doesn't completely feel in balance, but at least some clarity has returned. "It.. it wasn't a vision. It felt like something was in the room with me. There was fog all over the glass and someone wrote out 'I know' in it. Then the dead kid from the Dells just appeared." I pause to inspect the makeshift bandage Pogue weaved around my hand. The multi colored material is stained with a bright spot of blood, growing bigger and bigger by the second. "I don't know how it happened, but it broke the mirror and knocked me back. Just like that night in my room-"

"A darkling."

"What?"

"They're called darklings," Caleb further explains. "It's an apparition only the Power can summon. When you see one, it's like an omen; a warning."

It feels like ants are crawling up and down the linings in my throat. I shudder and swallow it dryly. "So that night in my room... it meant the same thing?"

Caleb nods solemnly.

"Who would send that to her?" Pogue questions the eldest Son.

"I don't know."

The boys fall quiet, feeding off whatever strange vibe the spirit gave off. The pulsing in my hand begins to relax, but most of the dark blue and gold tones in Pogue's tie is saturated with crimson. I brace one hand on the floor and try to stand up slowly, knees wobbling. Pogue keeps his hand on my waist, steadying me in case equilibrium fails and end up face planting. The comfort of his touch makes it a little easier. I press my palms against my forehead and breathe in evenly, afraid to move a foot and frankly, even more scared to continue throughout the school day in case this spooky specter follows. It already made itself known in my bedroom. What else can it do?

"Are you alright?" Caleb asks seriously.

"Yeah," I sniff and clear my throat. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Pogue rakes a hand through his hair, gazing at the chaotic jumble on the floor with hard eyes. "This getting out of hand, man. Are we just gonna wait around until whatever this thing is kills her?"

"Why are we even wasting our time?" Reid pipes in from the entry frame, leaning against the door jam. "For all we know, this chick could be crazy and try to kill all of us."

I roll my eyes at him. "I think if my main goal was murder, you'd be dead already, Reid." That seems to simmer the blonde hooligan down. He picks at his chipped nail polish, reconsidering.

Pogue nods to the broken glass and blood. "How are we supposed to explain this?"

Reid shrugs away from the wall. "I got it." His sight locks in on the glass fragments and his naturally blue eyes briefly gloss over in a shiny undertoned black. Sharp slivers begin to rise slowly and self integrate back in it's previous place inside the mirror frame. Each chips clicks into place and the cracks smooth in a blink of an eye, good as new and like the accident never happened. Even the blood droplets dissipates into thin air. Geez, what can't these guys fix?

"Reid..." Caleb murmurs under his breathe, hinting at his obvious displeasure at the blonde's power usage.

"What?" Reid retorts, holding out an arm. "You wanna take the fall for this? Be my guest."

Caleb sighs and shakes his head, but doesn't accept the offer. Suffering through a two hour detention after school ends isn't worth the nobility of fessing up that a mirror had been wrecked. Especially right after an incident like this. Our brains will be better put to use figuring out what the hell is happening.

"Did anybody else hear this?" I ask the boys.

Caleb shakes his head. "No. I don't think so."

I'm not surprised at that. This particular floor is fairly dormant at this hour. Except for the occasional student or two migrating from level to level, like Pogue. Having half the school faculty witness the initial scene would not have ended well.

I check the time on my phone and realize just how much time has passed. I'm gonna be late for Sociology. "I have to get to class soon."

"We'll walk you out," Caleb offers.

"You don't have to. I'm okay now. Really." I get that they want to find out what's going on as much as me, but I'll never learn to deal with this on my own if they keep helping me up after every ghostly surprise. One of these days neither of them will be close enough.

Pogue frowns. "You shouldn't be alone after what happened."

"I'll be okay. I don't think that thing is gonna come back today anyways." I shuffle over to the sinks where my backpack waits and sling it over my shoulder. It's easier to walk now. "Besides, I think I know a place where we can get some answers." The boys exchange confused glances. "Just give me a couple hours, okay?" I add.

Caleb and Pogue share a long look. Pogue doesn't look happy at the idea of me being by myself for the next couple hours, but doesn't openly vocalize it. His jaw muscles flex like he's trying to contain himself, but they relax when Caleb nods reassuringly at him. They must be close if just one motion can get the other to calm down. "Call if you need us," Caleb tells me.

I smile tentatively. "I will."

They walk out first, appearing like a band of reformed hoodlums and I don't move until their pounding footsteps fade up the staircase. After all these years of hearing horrifying accounts of students accidentally locking themselves in the storage closet and coming out with their heads practically screwed on backwards, I never thought I'd experience something similar for myself. This one kid named Barry Meyers proclaimed that there's an old man in a brown suit that he saw walking between rooms down here during Freshman year when he helped with Spenser's traditional Christmas function decorations. Everyone says he watches too much Ghost Hunters and Bill Nye the Science Guy. If you ask me, the guy's been dropped one too many times on his head as an infant.

My chest sinks with nervousness. I feel better now that I have the boys' aid if that dead ghoul kid does end up coming back for my soul, but still, the idea of this happening over and over again terrifies me. I feel like a walking target to something that I can't predict coming until it's too late. It's the worst kind of nightmare come to life. And it all started at the most important time in my life; the final year of high school before I leave for college. What if I never find out what's wrong before then... There has to be a way. Something that could give me some piece of mind that I won't die as the town's black sheep with a hundred cats living in my backyard. But how would I start? And more importantly, where? This isn't a situation I can easily cheat on with by using Google. I mean, sure there's Wikipedia, CliffsNotes, Dr. Phil...

Wait.

The library.

The book in the library, the one that Sarah was reading prior to lunch. It has all sorts of information about the Salem Witch Trials and the people involved, both before and after the executions. My last name is even in there, although it may or may not be related to me. I hope it's not. What would that imply? Sighing, I fix the strap over my shoulder and get a move on to the upper floors, periodically checking over my shoulder as I walk down the creepy hall to the staircase. Some of the floor boards creak louder with the mass of shoe sizes. One thing about Spenser is that any skepticism you may have will sure take a one eighty here. I better start wearing a bead of garlic around my neck, just in case.

The last period of the day ends with a fizzle. Usually after every last class, Kate and I meet in the entrance hall and decide what we're gonna do for the rest of the afternoon. Sometimes we hang out in her dorm or she comes over to my house. Now that the boyfriend has been so actively in the picture, our time will probably be split up. I don't mind too much, honestly. I figured it'd happen eventually. She'd find a serious relationship, have other best friends like Sarah, and just have her own life. It's just hard thinking about someone who has such a big presence in your life and them not being there as much anymore. But at least college can introduce me to a new pool of friends and crash studying with lots of anxious tears. And the even brighter side is steering clear of Kate's ovary crushing boyfriend. It's like my eggs get instantly fertilized every time I see him.

Yup, college will definitely be a fresh start.

When the final bell rings, my cell phone vibrates with a text from Kate. She's already waiting in the front lobby and wondering where I am. It's a good thing we're not talking face to face or else she'd see right through my bold faced lie. I quickly type up a lousy excuse for running late, pinning the blame on an overdue paper. I feel bad for putting off our hangout, but in the name of investigational purposes, it had to be done. It's for the best. Or at least that's what I tell myself as I sigh and gather my backpack from the desk, game face on.

Time to find that Pagan book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little longer than I hoped, but I hope you liked it. :) You'll find out in the next chapter for sure what Cora is. At some point, I will write a section of a chapter in Pogue's POV, so you can see what's going on in his head and what the other boys think of her.
> 
> Oh, and in case you were wondering, a "chicken hawk" is slang for an older man who preys on young boys.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥


	5. The Truth Isn't Pretty, My Friend

**T** he library is eerily quiet when I shuffle past the huge double doors, feeling shady and suspicious like I should don a pair of sunglasses and a baseball hat like so many movie stars do in their flicks when they wanna play incognito. The heater hums in the far corner, rustling the pages of a few open volumes scattered across various tables. A freshman kid slouches hopelessly in the back row, a thick Physics book spread out in front of him. He holds the sides of his head with both hands, elbows on either side of the homework guide and doesn't move an inch. He looks mentally checked out. I guess it's safe to move by without detection. Better make this crafty.

Gulping, I glance over both shoulders, seeing the librarian lady typing away on the keyboard at the main desk, then tip toe over to the shelf where Sarah last put the book. Every spine looks the same, distressed in it's brownish grey color, leather chipping from being used so much and even has that old dusty attic smell. I run my fingers along every column until it touches the right one.

_**The Chronicles of Paganism** _

_Aha_ , I think. _There it is._

I slide it out and carry it to a small square table closest to the fire exit, checking the surroundings and everyone in them like I'm a wanted fugitive. Not too many students study or ring out this particular volume. And given the dark roots of Ipswich, someone discovering me reading the book will make it look like I have something grisly to hide. Or a collection of Ouija boards at home. It sucks when you're being pursued by a taboo subject. In a way, you feel like bits of your life is gradually syncing up with history. And your perception of good and evil becomes very warped.

Settling down in the wooden chair, I plop my backpack between my feet and take a deep breath. The book is heavy and over a thousand pages long. I have no idea how I'm going to get through all of this before the bell rings. Maybe starting off where Sarah left off will help.

I quickly flip through the chapters, pausing occasionally to check the titles. When I'm past the sketches of spiders, one section makes me freeze.

**OTHER FORMS OF POWER**

My fingers twitch against the pages. Could this be it? Finally, after all this waiting, hoping and looking... this is the answer? In all honesty, I don't exactly know what there is to find. I guess all I really need to know is that this isn't just all in my head, that I'm not some nutcase imagining different worlds on the other side of her mirror.

The drawing in the beginning of the chapter is of a full length body mirror with glass pieces flying towards the reader, so close it feels like it's going to come soaring off the paper. A shadowy black mass hovers over the frame, like it's an object of possession. The next picture is of an old, worn looking woman kneeling under a tree, wearing a saggy dark cloak with the hood pulled up like some sort of Jedi. Her face is shrunken in, eyes a glossy pure white and her skin looks like it's melting into her bones. Yikes. I hope I don't age like that.

The old lady's frail hands are clasped together in a praying gesture. Under the black and white sketch, written in small text says: "The Seer communes with the Power."

Communing... why do they make is sound like some Satanic seance?

The paragraph below it reads that throughout generations, certain members of the five families were born with special abilities that even users of the Power didn't possess. They were able to communicate the forthcomings of death by releasing a blood-curdling scream that reached out to the families in a way that only they could hear. Among the gossip of the townsfolk, they were called banshees, soothsayers, and sibyls, but among the families they were only known as one thing.

Oracle.

I turn over to the next page, pulse hammering that maybe it will mention the bloodline that these abilities first appeared in. Instead, I see nothing. The paper that's meant to continue the chapter into the following one have been ripped clean off. Jagged edges can be seen sticking out between the parchment. It's sharp when I run my finger down it, like someone came in and torn them out only recently. But who would do that?

Okay, I'm officially confused.

Stumped, I flop back against the cushion and clutch the end of the arms rests. What was supposed to be the Holy Grail of uncovering mysteries ends up as the biggest let down in all of Senior year. And all because some student thought it'd be really funny to violate school property. Sounds like something Reid would do. As much as the visual makes me giggle, I can't let it go cold. I'v come too far and saw too many horrifying things in my head to give up now. One way another, I'm gonna find out what I am.

It won't hurt to ask for help.

Sighing, I take my phone from my blazer pocket and dial Caleb's number. It rings four times before his swoon-worthy voice picks up. I hope I didn't disturb him in the middle of "anatomy class" with Sarah in the broom closet.

"You good, Cora?" He asks seriously.

"I think so," I answer him honestly. "But there's something you should see. I'm down in the library. Bring the boys."

In fear of eavesdroppers, I whisper the directions of where the table I'm at is located and he quickly agrees to meet, hanging up with the soft _click_. Shutting my cell off, I tuck it back in my book bag and wait with baited breath for their shapes to come swaggering through the main doors. Even though we saw each other not even three hours ago, the thought of being around Pogue again makes my heart rate rocket sky high. I don't know why he easily brings these feelings over me. It's not as if he's the first boy I've had a crush on. Maybe the first one that makes me want to ship myself off to a convent, but hey, crushes are crushes.

I guess it's because he's just been so nice when he really has no reason to. The way he gave me his tie to wrap up my bleeding hand, his sudden steely exterior whenever Cole is around or any other guy for that matter, and the fact he seems to really care about what's happening to me. The fact that I have to keep this a secret from my parents and Kate, the three people who mean the most, has seriously taken a damper to my resolve. When you go through most of your life with a support system, more than one comfort zones to fallback on when your drive has the motivation of dirt, it's easy to think you can get through one problem without them around. Besides, their strength will leak into yours, right?

Wrong.

But maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. A dangerous life also means a lonely one. Still, it's nice to have the boys to confide in.

"Cora," Caleb's voice murmurs from an aisle down.

My head snaps up in time to see Spenser's very own LFO sauntering toward the table. Their ties are undone and the first button of their white undershirts isn't in the sew holes. Judging from the sheen of sweat around their necks, they just got off of swim practice. Great, because a mental picture of Pogue's abs in a steaming shower is definitely what I need right now. _Be cool, be cool,_ I chant to myself and open up the book again to make it seem like I have it together.

"What did you find?" Caleb asks once they're circled around the table.

I hesitate, eyes flickering between the foursome. "I'm not sure. But I know it's connected to what's going on."

"Is this gonna take long?" Tyler says with a frown. "I have a Chemistry test in twenty minutes."

"It shouldn't."

Reid rolls his eyes and plops himself onto the chair across from me, legs spread wide, one arm thrown over the back. The ink black polish over his stubby nails are chipping at the corners. "Let's get this over with then."

I bet he was picked last for recess games as a kid.

Inhaling deep, I sweep over the page where I last saw the unsightly picture of the old woman and reread the passage outloud to them, lifting the book so it's sitting on it's wide bottom ridge. The book is so long in length, it covers the entire portion of my face and only leaves a few wisps of hair visible at the top. My palms grow damp as I come closer to the last sentence, an uneasy crick morphing in my gut from reciting the old myths. Hearing it in my own voices just cements how taboo the whole subject really is.

And how careful we have to be if we want to find out more.

Once I'm done, I set down the book slowly and close the lid, scanning the boys' faces. All of them look as dark as I feel. Except Reid. He lolls against the seat, chin propped against his fist with his eyes shut, snoozing away peacefully. I give him a sharp kick in the shin under the table and he shoots awake with a curse.

Tyler lightly rubs at the back of his head, his soft blue eyes bristle with confusion. "So... what does this mean? Are you one of us?"

"No," I tell the youngest warlock. "I don't have the Force like you do."

"The Power," Caleb corrects.

"Oh, yeah, right." Secret club names are more elaborate nowadays. "But that's not all. Look-" I open up the spot where the adjoining pages of the chapter have been removed and raise it up for the boys to see. "There was supposed to be more."

"What happened to it?" Caleb inquires.

"I don't know. I found it this way. Someone must have took them out."

Pogue's eyes sharpen. "Someone who knows about us."

I nod in confirmation and watch as their expressions turn very grave. Just how long has them and their entire bloodline have been keeping their magical genes a secret? From how cautious and watchful they look sometimes, I guess it's been several decades. Funny to think that no one has ever picked up their trail until now. What went wrong under their disguise? Or is it just plain bad luck?

"Do you think we should?" Pogue's voice breaks me from my musing and I look up to see him staring at Caleb. His best friend looks back evenly.

"It's the only way to find out," the dark haired leader answers and inclines his chin to the Pagan book. "If what they said in there is true, then she's in more danger than we think. The Book is the only way to know for sure."

Wait, _The_ Book? There is a _The_ Book now?

"Yeah, but, we haven't brought anyone down there but us," Pogue says and glances at me. His ridiculously handsome features are marred with apprehension. "This could freak her out."

Caleb runs a hand down his face in exasperation. His sight flits to me and stays there. "She'll be fine. She's seen worse."

If I wasn't confused before, their super secret gabfest has thrown me head long into a ditch. "Uh, guys?" I wave a hand in the air, drowning in fifth wheel awkwardness.

Caleb turns to me slowly, like he's bearing bad news. "There's something we need to show you."

"What is it?"

Him and Pogue exchange another glance. "You'll see."

Right... that explains absolutely nothing. But Caleb has never given me a reason to distrust him before, so I don't see how I possibly can now. His warm brown eyes emit too much sincerity. There's not a blip in my chest as I gather my things, put the book back where it belongs and follow them out to the Entrance Hall. The corridors are always swarming with eager students the second after the final bell rings. I have to keep my eyes sharp on the back of Reid's bleach blonde head so I don't lose track of them as we wade through the crowd.

Tyler's Hummer waits pretty in the parking lot. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Caleb moving to his car, cell raised to his ear and assume he's cooking up some excuse to Sarah to why he can't hang out right away. If I was some unsuspecting girl and he batted those long dark lashes at me, I'd believe any word that came out of his mouth. Good thing I'm not.

"Over here, Cora!" Tyler calls from his sweet ride.

Pogue chuckles behind me and I turn to see him already straddling his bike, arm resting over the helmet that's propped against his leg. They look more muscular is the form fitting uniform slacks. For the love of God, quit looking, I scold myself, feeling the need to cover my eyes.

"You sure you wanna ride with them?" Pogue's eyes sparkle with humor, smirking when Tyler and Reid bicker about who gets to drive.

I glance over my shoulder at the two boys. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, it might be better that way. Someone could see me with you and..."

And if that happens, my parents will be writing my obituary by tomorrow. Reported sightings of a girl getting on the back of a bike with her best friend's boyfriend will go down like the Titanic. Definitely not worth the risk. Getting offed by your own best girl is a scenario on my list of Things I Never Want To Happen Ever. But hey, at least it'd be by someone important to me...

Pogue holds his cherry red helmet tight between his big hands. "Yeah," he says on an exhale. "Yeah, you're right."

His tone is weird, like he was half wanting me to get on anyways.

Then a buzzing noise vibrates from his left pocket. He pulls out his mobile phone and flips open the top.

"Kate?" I ask as his eyes skim over the screen.

He nods, wide shoulders dropping.

I frown, knowing well it will be hard for him to make up a lame excuse and break plans with her. It was bumming having to lie through my teeth to get out of our usual after school hangout session. I hate keeping things from her and a part of me feels guilty that I'm the reason her own boyfriend is bowing out on her too. I turn and skip over the Tyler's Hummer, wanting for the whole day to just be done and over with already.

As I buckle myself in, Reid calls dibs in the passenger seat on driving the car back from whatever super secret meeting place they're taking me to. I wonder what they're like when Monster Truck Season tickets go on sale.

0000

For a majority of the ride, I hold my book bag close to my lap and stare bleakly out the window as we drive further and further into the vast woodlands. The trees are tall and lush, a perfect scenery for a horror movie director to shoot a slasher flick in. Leaves that have fallen onto the road whoosh past the windows and stick the front windshield. To my surprise, Tyler is a pretty safe driver. He's not a lead foot like Reid and doesn't monopolize the radio station.

The long stretch of road seems to go on for infinity. I peer around Reid's seat to see where we're heading, but it's one long continuous line down, mist lightly blanketing the top of the forest. An anxious, uneasy knot twists in my gut and I can't help but fidget in my seat at the prospect of going somewhere creepy and dangerous. With all four boys around, I know I won't be in any extreme danger, at least not from an outside source, but it's still not a comforting tableau.

After about twenty minutes, the Hummer pulls onto a vast dirt land and parks in front of an old broken wood gate. The little square where the door is supposed to be is missing and already waiting there is Caleb outside of his sleek vehicle. Pogue comes zooming through only seconds behind us as Tyler shifts into park and keys off the ignition.

Out beyond the distance... is an ancient two story house, devoid of any color and decoration. The planks look stripped to the very bone and some of the roof are almost black from decay. It feels like a bunch of zombie should be bursting out the front door.

I hop out from the back seats and take two cautious steps forward, taking in every detail. It's like a sketch from a scary story book. "Wow." It comes out a murmur.

"Hey, don't freak out, okay?" Tyler asks, already walking ahead with Reid. He's looking back at me with big, concerned eyes, as though he's thoroghly convinced I'll start screaming any second now.

"Why would I?" I reply quizzically, brows furrowing.

Reid snorts. "'Cause all the other girls did when they saw the bodies."

I freeze. "What?" My cracking voice causes him to burst into laughter.

"Ignore him," Pogue's deep voice comes from beside me. He gives the blonde miscreant a shove on the back as he passes by. "He's just messin' with you."

I want to laugh, but all I can focus on is the looming structure of the old creepy house, staring down at me like it's an open portal. I gulp and squeeze my book bag closer my to side, taking careful steps forward. Leaves and tiny twigs crinkle and snap as we head toward the tall wooden door. A shadowy figure moves past the window overlooking the field on the top level. How can someone actually stay in that place?

Caleb leads the way inside the house. When the door slowly creaks open, a gush of cold air rustles the fine points of his hair. Tyler and Reid follow suit, trailing behind him as he stalks through the foyer and down a short hallway with a door at the other end. There are oil lamps and candles placed on certain tables and book shelves, giving the house a very Victorian era vibe. There's a crooked banister that's missing chunks of foundation, spiraling all the way up to the second floor.

When I reach the door to what I guess is the basement, I freeze right at the top stair. The other side is pitch black, but there's a tiny circular beam of light at the very bottom.

And suddenly, I'm not just nervous.

I'm petrified.

"Hey," Pogue's voice says calmly behind me. His hands lightly touch my arms. "I'm right here."

The baritone of his voice settles my rising pulse a little, but still, my stomach can't help but do flips. I gaze down at the flight of stairs like it's my final walk to the electrical chair and take a deep breath. Pogue's thudding footsteps follow me down as I slowly descend each step, watching the light grow brighter and it's shadow waver against the walls. As I come around the curve, I realize it's candles placed along either side of the staircase. Nice touch.

When I skip off the last step, I freeze and my fingers loosen in the strap of my messenger bag, making it fall and knock against my knees. "Whoa..."

The basement, more like an underground cave, is something straight out of Tales from the Crypt. There are statues everywhere, long and primitive looking with weird carvings drawn along the surface. Candles dot the walls, small ledges in the sculptures, standing on wicks or by themselves. In the center of the room, lies a metal circular symbol. A stone pit is formed around the middle, like something is meant to be burned there. The only thing that's relatively normal is two books shelves pushed against the far right wall.

Five seats are surrounding the stone pit and each boy is standing beside one. It looks like they're about to break into some synchronized dance routine. Or perform a human sacrifice.

That Pagan book is really getting to me.

Caleb glances towards one of the book shelves, eyes flashing gold, then a thick black volume comes floating out towards the stone pit. The metal lines around it alights in flames.

 _Wow_ , I think to myself. _They really do have the Force._

"What is all this?" I ask Caleb as the book faces him in the air, as if he's holding it upright, and flips through the index by itself.

"Our history," Caleb responds mysteriously. "The one in the library doesn't cover the full story. Everything about our ancestors, about us and what lead to the secret of the Power -" he gestures to the pages, "-is all in here."

I start to catch on. "So... if I'm somehow connected..."

Caleb nods. "You'd be in here too."

The beginning chapter shows a list of names of the families that were accused of committing witchcraft during the Hunt. More than five were convicted, but not all were guilty, with one reported of fleeing town before any charges could be read to them. The last surname shown at the very bottom is Jameson. The words practically glow off the page, hypnotizing me like a part of myself is trapped within the parchment. Then the pages begin to flip to the other sections, at an alarmingly fast rate I don't know how Caleb can read through any of it.

After a moment, Caleb leans forward intently.

"What is it?" Pogue says, noticing his closest friend's shift in demeanor.

"This wasn't here before," the raven haired warlock murmurs. The book stops at a segment five chapters before the end and lays flat on it's back in the stone pit so we all can see, flames close to licking it's sides.

On the page, written in fancy dark scrawl, is an entire paragraph dedicated to the importance and the dangers of finding each warlock tribe's respective Oracles; a person with precognitive type abilities that warn the coven members of approaching threats, either from outside parties or one of their own.

 _Oracles_...

That's just like in the Pagan book I read earlier. Is there meant to be more of them? Is that what I even am? A blizzard of jumbled thoughts cloud my head as Caleb skirts his dark brown eyes over the pages, rubbing his lower jaw slowly after getting to the last section. He looks grim, like he just finished reading a murder scene report. Uh oh. This can't be good.

"It says that every hundred years, the five families were supposed to have their own messenger, a member descending from a single bloodline: the Jameson family." Caleb glanced at me. "Otherwise known as St. James." I gulped as he continued. "They're fated to show their true form when an immediate threat is born into the Power or when coming into contact with one of us. They warn us when the Power is used beyond regular limit and any presence of outside danger. Once the trials started, one by one, they started disappearing. Their absence raised suspicions in the town and before the Court could take in the last remaining St. James house into custody, they left town. No activity has been recorded of them since. "

A long beat passes as Caleb collects a breath.

My own brain is practically fried sunny side up. Why would my parents keep something this from me? Settling your only child down at the dinner table and explaining that your ancestors were accomplices to five magic practicing families' life styles and were forced to flee the scene and change last names before they burned you at the stake seems right up there along with the birds and the bees talk. Either this all just another missing segment from that damn Pagan book or my parents really want to know how I'd pull together in face a life crippling revelation.

"No record of them since," I vaguely echo what Caleb previously explained in a murmur, eyes skirting the floor. "So that means..."

Caleb's solemn nod confirms my grim intuition. He claps his hands on his wide school trouser covered thighs and pushes himself to his feet. "You're the only one left."

"So," Tyler begins, a little excitedly. "Does this mean you're one of us?" His blue irises shine bright.

"I don't think so," I tell him. "I can't do what you do. But I think whatever is in me... is meant to help you."

Reid scoffs, forever unimpressed. "How the hell are you supposed to do that when all you do is scream?" He's probably used to hearing girls wailing under different circumstances.

"That's more you can say," Pogue jumps to defend, smirking when Reid flips him off.

Caleb rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers like a parent who got called in to the office because their kid pushed someone else off the monkey bars. "Now we know," he declares. "You're tied to us. And whoever's been using, you can predict and communicate with."

"But what do we do now?" I ask. "Do you want me to try to lure in whoever has been doing this?"

Caleb quickly shakes his head. "No. No, that's too dangerous. Your link with us has already put a target on your back as it is. From now on, we're gonna have to watch when we use and how we use it." The boys nod in agreement, even Reid, who does it more half heartily. Then Caleb shifts his focus to me. "Maybe you should start thinking about moving into the dorms so we know where you are-"

An immediate **NO** flag pops into mind. "Whoa, wait, hold on. I know this a crazy time, but... I don't think I can just up and leave home like that."

Caleb sighs. "Cora, these attacks are only going to get worse. Do you really want to risk your parents being effected by it?"

Damn. He's got a point there. If my Mom had managed to pinpoint something else was stirring the pot that night when my mirror broke and it wasn't caused by some innocent little arachnid... then who knows what else she picked up since then. And what if my Dad finds out too? His gasket would blow probably harder than hers. How does someone so normal, so clean cut and predictable as them handle something so life changing like this? I don't even know what to call it... this _thing_ inside me.

I guess in a way, that's precisely what it is. A presence. A strong, malevolent presence that wants me to help the boys, but only scares me to a point that I have no idea how to process anything. I don't know whether to think of it as a blessing or curse. Neither friend or foe.

I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the ground. "No, but... what about you guys? And Kate and Sarah? Doesn't their safety matter too?"

Pogue's jaw locks. He looks like he's ready to take on Odin himself.

"Let's just face it," I say. "It's better if you all just keep your distance. No one is safe around me."

The room falls silent.

Nobody argues.

0000

The secret meeting doesn't last long.

After the bomb drop of the century, Caleb comes to the conclusion that we all need some time to let this sink in. Considering that the entire week has felt like a volleyball match and I was the ball getting pounded, it's nice to be able to take a breather from it all, for however long. Although before we all left, Caleb insisted that we speak of this again, once our heads are cleared - and judging from the clipped, no nonsense tone of his voice, he means that to be soon. I half expected that. Of course Caleb isn't the kind of guy to sweep dust under the rug after it's been acknowledged. The issue, the fear is still there and still very much needs to be dealt with.

I just don't know how.

The ride back home is just as awkward as the trip to the mystery house of doom. Reid and Tyler squawk at each other like the playground boys they are, barely realizing they have an already emotionally unstable teenaged girl in the backseat who wasn't yet completely unhinged. The things you hear from the average adolescent male...

Surprisingly, the night passes without the disturbance of a nightmare, albeit, I don't get much sleep at all. Caleb's words about my parents swirl in my head like a hot drink that just been freshly stirred. Even now, in the middle of the night, my presence in the house brings more danger to them than leaving our front door open for every whackjob to enter. Moving into the dorms is a better idea after all. Mom and Dad could live in peace and wouldn't have to worry about me breaking anymore expensive glass appliances. But then what would happen to Kate and Sarah? Or a possibly new unsuspecting roommate? They would be just in harm's way as my parents. Maybe even more since the last incident actually took place during school. What would they think if they saw me acting like a madwoman? Or worse, what if something happened to them?

I'd never live with myself, knowing they got hurt because of me and I could have done something to stop it, yet didn't anyways.

My reservation in hell would only get hotter.

0000

The next morning, I wake up with a surprisingly clear head. And by that, I mean my temple isn't pulsing with aching blood. Mentally though, I couldn't be more befuddled than I was last night. I thought that maybe sleeping on yesterday's events would ease some of the stress from my mind, but the morning sunlight streaking through my bedroom curtains doesn't do anything for the nerves at all. It just makes me want to burrow back under the comforter and wait for it all to pass over until exit exam day. But then I would have to deal with that...

Okay, maybe not-so-great plan.

My parents don't ask much questions when I join them downstairs for breakfast in a less talkative fashion that even they would consider gabby. Dad just sips his steaming mug of coffee, fluffs open his newspaper and reads the business section. Mom, on the other hand, eyes me weirdly between every fork full of her quinoa fruit salad, like she's trying to interpret every breath I take as something with ulterior motive. It gets to the point where I can't even eat except pushing the contents of my plate around with a utensil before excusing myself early to change in my uniform.

And I thought I woke up on the wrong side of the bed...

School doesn't feel that much better either. When I walk into the first class of the day, sleep deprived and lumpish, my emotional state brightens at the prospect of hanging out with Kate again. Since I ashamedly backed away from our plans the previous day, she hasn't called or texted me all morning, which is very uncharacteristic of her. I hope she isn't too mad about that. The thought of unintentionally hurting her feelings makes me want to lay down the gauntlet and confess everything to her. But the outcome of that happening will only lead to her running away screaming and me being sent off to Area 51. It's better to keep quiet about everything for as long as I can.

But I don't know how long that will be.

Pausing in the middle of the class stairs, I fiddle with my messenger bag, skirting my fingers around for that slip of notebook paper I was sure I lent Kate a week or so ago.

"Hey, Kate," I call out to her, walking toward our usual seats. My focus is neck deep in the contents of the tote. "Do you still have those notes I gave you last-" When I look up at the booth, my hand drops back to my side in surprise. "Oh... you're not Kate."

Sitting in the seat of my absent closest friend, is none other than Chase Collins. Shameless flirt and professional frat boy fight breaking extraordinaire.

"Nope," he grins that cheeky smile that sent Kate and Sarah's brains short circuiting. All his books are already neatly laid out. I guess he's here to stay. "But I am one hell of a note taker."

I giggle and set my things down. "For my sake, I hope you're right." Just like any high prestige private school, Spenser expects plenty from their students and doesn't let just any dunce into their curriculum. My grade point average has managed to stay fairly even when doing assignments separately, but still, it feels strange to be without Kate's reassuring half.

Speaking of which, where did she even go? It's not like her to call out of class without telling me first. She might be upset about yesterday. I would have been too if my boyfriend and best friend cancelled plans on me only mere hours apart. Guilt stricken, I unzip my phone from my school bag, click up to her contact name and quickly type up a message.

 **Cora** (Mobile)  
_Hey, missing u in class :( Where r u?_

It takes ten minutes for her response to pop up.

 **Kate** (Mobile)  
_Sorry! Have a bad headache. In nurse's office. Miss u 2!_

A well of mixed emotions fills up to the brim in my chest; relief at the fact that she's okay, disappointment at being without her company and concern for the sudden Doctor visit. Kate's always been one of good health and headaches aren't usually something taken a first sign of serious illness, although with all the weirdness that's been going on, I can't help but feel perturbed about it all. She showed no signs of being ticked off about what happened the other day, which is slightly comforting. Given how increasingly paranoid I've been getting, I better count my lucky stars this ruse has been pulling off. Eventually the truth has to slip out and she'll look at me like I just morphed into the undulating staircase crawling girl from The Grudge.

Sighing, I tuck my cell back in my bag and turn my attention to the front as the teacher wipes the chalkboard clean of marks and starts his lesson.

After a few minutes of focus, I feel a soft pat on my skirt covered knee from something long, hard and scrawny. In a daze, the sudden sensation makes me blink and glance down at the spot, seeing nothing except the thick pleated grey material. Chase sits ever so studiously through the lecture, book propped up against his upturned leg, chin resting on his closed fist with the pointer finger up by his cheek. His eyes flit occasionally from the chalkboard back down to his text book. In his left hand, is a plain yellow highlighter. I narrow my eyes at him a little, but the suspicion doesn't last long when he goes about his innocent business and patiently listens to the Professor's persistent droning.

Hmph. Maybe it's nothing.

But only minutes after my concentration is directed back at the chalkboard, the familiar _tap_ _tap_ of a small squarish mass on my leg pulls me back from the clinches of study. My leg does a spasm of surprise and instinctively, I reach out with my hand to catch whatever has been poking at me, but it only grasps air.

 _What the hell is_ \- my thoughts freeze prematurely when I do a quick skim of the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary on an otherwise boring class with equally mundane people. But then I see Chase, reclining back in the same casual way as before. Except now, his baby features aren't serious and aloof, like he's posing for a shoot in a magazine cover. He's smirking.

And in his left hand, he slowly twirls a brand new, freshly sharpened No. 2 pencil.

Smiling myself, I discreetly snatch my mechanical pencil from the long desk and romp him on his trouser covered leg. The corners of his lips twitch up even wider and he returns the gesture when the teacher has his back to the class. This little game goes on for minutes between long intervals, seeing which could get in more than three thumps at a time. I'm on the winning side until the teacher orders us to turn a page in our text books, and Chase takes the opportunity to whack me particularly hard on the knee. I make a noise and sunder the quietness of class.

The teacher turns around slowly to my row, like this is the moment he's been waiting for all day to use a long awaited medieval punishment plan. "Is there something you'd like to announce to the class, Ms. St. James?"

I shake my head. "No, sir. Except that Chase Collins is a terrible study partner."

"I see," the teacher sighs. "Another disruption and I'll have to send the both of you to the Provost's office." His gaze bounces between the Collins kid and I. "Is that clear?"

We both nod.

The classroom resumes back into it's regular flow after that, the residual scraping of pencils against notebook paper and eraser grinding picking up quickly. When I'm the sure the teacher's hawk eye isn't on us, I glare the fires of Mount Doom at Chase, who only shrugs cheekily with a grin. He even has slight dimples on either of his post-puberty blessed cheeks. No wonder Kate looks at him like his biceps are made of hard candy. It's always the pretty ones that reel you in first.

It doesn't take long for the bell to ring.

Like after lecture, I wait until the room is nearly close to completely cleared out before packing my things away and exiting out into the corridor. Despite his lean muscular build, Chase manages to stay by my side throughout the time it takes to put away the notebook paper, pencils and text book, all without me noticing until we accidentally knock shoulders whilst trudging to the door. The action makes me stumble back a step and glance up at his shape in bewilderment, which turns into slight shock when I recognize that it's him and that he's still here. How do big dudes move so quietly?

Chase chuckles sheepishly and makes some sort of offhanded comment about it being "his bad." What a sap.

We part ways shortly after proceeding into the hall, having differing schedules at that point. But still, we both smile and offer casual goodbyes as I turn and skip back to my locker to swap out supplies. The whole partner switcheroo went better than I thought, at least as good as teaming up with any jock can get, if only for a few hours. Kate will always be my first choice, but it's nice to know not every boy in the school is an ignoramus.

"So when did you start hanging out with Chase?" Pogue's deep and very disgruntled voice manifests from beside my locker, tone like a snake who's just clamped their fangs around someone's ankle.

I shut my locker door slowly, caught off guard. "Not much at all."

"He seems like he enjoys being around you." From the clench in his jaw, it's obvious that the Collins guy is an extremely touchy subject for Pogue and easily pokes a stick at his man-pain. But what confuses me is what the competing dreamboat could have possibly done to piss him off today. Kate wasn't even in the class, much less sitting next to him. So why should he be upset?

"I wouldn't know it if he does. Why does it bother you so much?"

"I don't like the guy. Something about him just doesn't seem right."

"Well, I'm sorry," I say dryly. "But I didn't realize I needed to run my friends by you."

"What?" Pogue answers lowly, taken aback at that and his brows come together. "No, that's not what I meant." He sighs softly and idly runs his fingertips over the back of his neck, ruffling the smooth hanging strands of hair. _Oh, no,_ I tell myself. _Not me._ His masculine wiles and delicious Axe body spray scent might have worked on a day where my hormones rages more than my brain, but today is not that day. "Look, I'm not trying to sound like a dick, but-" Pogue continues, sounding much more collected than before. At least he caught himself before he completely crossed over into overbearing tool territory. Most that do wind up in the sellout zone with Aaron. "I don't trust him. I've seen the way he looks at Kate and now you..."

I glance down at my school shoes, scrunching my toes inside. What do you say to something like this? I'm really glad you genuinely care about my best friend and aren't out to hurt her, also I'm so attracted to you it feels like I'm going out of my mind so that kinda sucks too?

No, that won't work.

Instead, I plaster on a fake smile and pretend that everything is smooth sailing. "It's cool. I get it. You don't want any creeps around Kate. Neither do I. That doesn't always make you a jerk, you know." I pause between my mini emotional pep talk to zip up my book bag and sling it over my shoulder. The weight of it feels strong enough to pull me down through the floorboards and bury me with the exterminated rodents laying in heaps under the school.

"It's not just that," he admits. "If I told Kate this... she'd be pissed at me."

"Why? You're a good boyfriend." The comment falls out so easily from my mouth, I almost slap a hand against my lips. Oh, no. Now I've done it.

Pogue laughs in that deep, mesmeric bass tone of his and shifts his weight against the metal locker. The movement comes off a little flustered, more so by the sparkle in his eyes. He even hesitates to meet my gaze full on. "You really think?"

I sputter for an explanation that isn't too implicating. _Get it together_ , I think. _Composure._ "Well, I mean... from what I've seen of you two, yeah. You're perfect. For each other, I mean!" Smooth, Cora. Smooth. "I'm sure she knows that too."

Pogue suddenly goes stiff at that and he keeps an intense eye contact that makes me feel like I'm being physically exposed. He blinks slowly, thick lashes fluttering and his expression visibly lightens. "Shit, sorry," he murmurs ruefully, probably realizing just how hotheaded and impulsive he sounded earlier. "Guess I lost it there for a minute, huh?"

I can't help but smile. "Don't worry about it. It happens to all of us. Besides, Reid is already the designated dick of the group."

Pogue chuckles deeply, an easygoing grin tugging at the sides of his full lips. Dear God, why. "Yeah," he agrees, pulling his stance away from the row of lockers to walk next to me on an our way to the next scheduled class. "Right about that."

I feel like a ball of soft fuzziness rolled in sugar at the realization that I actually made him laugh and hold onto the strap of my messenger bag like it's an IV drip keeping me conscious. Ever since Dad brought his car to that mechanic's garage, we never had a chance to really talk, just the two of us; if you count fidgeting awkwardly while a dude tinkers under a hood could be considered alone time, especially in the lingering presence of other oil slicked men and an equally uptight parent. I guess fate is working in my favor that way. The torch I carry remains invisible and an important part of my life with Kate doesn't get destroyed. Although there is still those dreams keeping me up at night, the physical pain that comes with it, the distressing notion that everyone I love is in the constant grip of danger, plus trepidation of living every day life.

It could always be worse.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Pogue and I continue our leisure stroll down to the next appointed class, conversing casually through the halls while I try my best not to brush against him as we move, even though our arms bump together with every other step. It comes to the point where it feels like there's this bubble of tension and awkwardness is enveloping us both and the only way to make it stop is to address it. But going with that route, I might as well plot to nuke the city and get tossed in the slammer. Or turning Aaron into a good hearted man. Yeah... the first one might be easier.

Shortly before we approach class, the hand holding forms of Caleb and Sarah come practically skipping our way, expressions content and love lost. The happy couple don't suspect a thing by our sudden twosome company, but with my cheeks getting warmer by the minute, it seems as if it won't last long at all.

Sarah leans into Caleb's side as her mancandy and Pogue talk like they haven't seen each other in weeks. To any passing student, it probably appears as though two couples are chatting merrily before class, if it weren't for my super uncomfortable disposition. Sarah peeks up occasionally at the dark haired warlock leader, basking in all his attractiveness as he speaks and much to my chagrin, meets my hesitating gaze when there's a break in conversation. The look on my face feels like it's painting it's own picture, in every language, in every way people can understand.

Sarah and I lock gazes and for a second...

I swear I've been found out. But as the beats pass, a small smile graces her lips and her body leans back into Caleb without a care in the world. She doesn't notice a thing.

I sigh with relief.

 _Boy, am I_ _good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Have a great new year! ^‿^


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